Love is an Open Door
by Kuann
Summary: The story of the one time Elsa shared her secret, and why she never did again. Non-AU, a back story focusing on Elsa during and after her 16th birthday. Elsa x OC, appearances by Anna and The King of Arendelle. Takes place in the same fanon as The Ice God, but much earlier.
1. 1: Happy Birthday

**Chapter 1: Happy Birthday**

_Tap. Tap. Tap tap. Tap._

Elsa squeezed her quill at each knock. She had become intimately familiar with that rhythm, simultaneously loving and dreading it. The person that she cared for the most in all the world. The person that made her feel so awful that she wanted to curl up and cry.

Anna had arrived.

"Elsa?"

After so many years of barely seeing her sister's face, Elsa still imagined the tiny little five-year-old of her memories. Her sister's voice had changed, but the little redhead with stubby pigtails and tiny feet would forever be what she pictured behind that door. She would also picture Anna's watery, disappointed eyes, the slight pinch of her cheeks, and downward curve of her mouth as she tried not to cry with disappointment. Elsa used to look at her through the keyhole of her room, just to get a glimpse, but that practice had become unbearable years ago.

"It's me, Anna. I just, uh, I wanted to wish you a happy birthday!"

_You still remember?_ Elsa thought. She didn't deserve Anna, not after all these years.

She'd tried everything. At first she would just say that she couldn't. It was the closest thing to the truth. She had homework to do, and Mama and Papa would kill her if she didn't get it done.

But Anna did not give up. She asked if she could help. So Elsa tried being polite. She would rather be alone right now, she had a good book that she couldn't put down. It felt like a little bit of a lie, but she did want to be alone sometimes, unable to muster the will to be strong for company.

But Anna did not give up. She wanted to see what book it was. So Elsa tried being mean. She didn't want to be with Anna, Anna _specifically_. She would tell her to just go away, to stop annoying her. It was the biggest lie in the world, but maybe if Anna thought she was a terrible person, she wouldn't _want _to be with her anymore, and she wouldn't feel so rejected.

But Anna did not give up. She would come back the next day, sliding poorly-drawn apology letters under the door. Elsa would read them over and over again, crying into them and freezing them and crying and freezing and crying and freezing. Until they snapped. So she told the only truth she could: she ignored Anna. And that's what she would do today, staring at her letters until she gave up and went away.

"I, uh, I brought you something!" Anna continued. She was nervous.

_Oh, Anna…_ Elsa thought. _You don't need to be nervous around me. I love everything you say._

But she couldn't say that, or else she wouldn't be ignoring her anymore. And then Anna would have hope, and she would cling to that hope for months, causing them both more pain than either could handle.

"They're chocolates from the kitchen. I st… I asked the chef for them. Mama said you like chocolate… just like me!" Her self-affirming laugh made the corners of Elsa's mouth rise. She covered it with her glove, struggling to keep inside the insane urge to laugh. It wasn't even that funny, really. But it _was._

"But there's one - one condition!" Anna stammered a bit as she shifted to a more authoritative tone. "You have to come out here and eat them with me!"

Elsa winced. She tried to concentrate on something else, dipping her quill back into the inkpot. Seconds passed, however, and she could think of no way to continue her work. All she could focus on was the crushing silence.

"Come on, Elsa! You only turn sixteen once!"

_I know. _Anna knew that, too; all her birthdays had come and gone, with neither gift nor acknowledgement from her older sister. She'd wanted to, spent hours fantasizing about what she'd get her the next year, when her powers were under control. She'd been doing that for the last eight years.

"Elsa! Elsa, please, at least answer me!"

_Pat_. Something liquid dropped onto the parchment. Elsa raised a hand to her eyes. She hadn't realized she was crying. When her finger touched her lashes, however, she remembered the gloves. They deadened everything. She felt only fabric against her cheek. She could not sense the texture of paper, the warmth of skin, or the moistness of her eyes. The world was dead to her touch.

She looked down at the parchment to discover the real culprit: a drop of ink had splattered across the page. She thrust the quill back into the pot and left it there, staring at it as if it had stung her.

"You know what?"

Elsa was struck by the tone of her sister's voice. It wasn't frustration; it was anger.

"I have _tried_, Elsa! I've been patient, I've said I'm sorry! _What am I supposed to do?!_" There was a padded thudding against the door as what could only be chocolates became projectiles for the incensed redhead. "I say we can do what _you_ want, and you tell me to go away! I make sure I don't offend you, and you ignore me! I ask how your day was, and you tell me you want to be _alone_!"

Elsa screwed her eyes shut, trying to block out Anna's voice. If she succeeded, it would only make way for the crackling of frost as it crept across her desk

"What did I ever do to you?! Just tell me that, and I will go away forever, just like you want!"

_Anna, stop, _please… Elsa pressed her face into her palms. Her fingertips dug into her forehead. The crackling of frost would not abate, and neither would Anna's shouts. She didn't want to conceal. She wanted to feel. She wanted to _scream_.

"If you think I'm annoying, that's fine! You're right! I can't keep books on my head, I slurp my soup sometimes! I'm _not_ as good of a princess as you!"

Elsa lifted her eyes, widened as they were, to the door. To the girl behind it.

_No, Anna…_ she thought, horrified. _That's not true! That's not what I mea-_

"But if that's what you think…" Anna's voice became tearful as it rose in volume. "Just say it _to my FACE!"_

Even the frost had frozen. Nothing moved. She had no words, no thoughts. She didn't know what to do.

The door quaked with Anna's kick. Then she sniffled, and followed with something infinitely worse.

"I HATE YOU!"

Their mother and father came seconds later. They asked Anna what on Earth was going on. Anna said all of those horrible things over again, except now she was asking them if they were true, because _they_ could talk to Elsa, because she didn't hate _them_.

It took them almost an hour to calm her down. All those years of isolation felt like a second in comparison. By the time the hall finally quieted, she was far past the point of writing, or reading, or even staring at the grandfather clock in the corner. Its hands had frozen only five minutes in.

The bed, however, could only freeze so much. So Elsa curled up on it and cried herself to sleep.

* * *

Her father's knock woke her. She had no idea how much time had passed, but his knock was just as distinctive as Anna's. _Tap. Tap._

Unlike the past few years, however, he did not let himself in.

"Elsa?"

She did not respond. Words felt inadequate. Why reply? Why do anything at all? Nothing helped. She was just as trapped as she was when she was eight. As when she had locked herself in here. No… not herself…

"Are you alright?"

It was _him_.

"_No._"

The anger in her voice sounded strange. She'd never sounded that way before, especially toward her father. But… it felt _good_.

"May I come in?"

Elsa balled her fists and looked up at the door. "_No._"

The meltwater that had collected on her bed began to freeze again.

"Elsa, listen to me-"

"No! I don't want you to come in!" she repeated. "I want to get _out_! I want to see my sister! Why can't she know I have powers?!"

"Elsa, please, getting angry won't-"

"Why can't I be angry? Anna can! You can! Why don't _I_ get that right?"

Ice began to crawl up the walls. She didn't care. The cold never bothered her. Why _should _she care? Why _did_ she have to stay in her room?

"It was an _accident, _Papa! I hurt Anna _once_! How many years am I supposed to stay in here because of that?!"

"Elsa, you need to _control_ yourself!"

"_No_! _Listen to me_!" She was crying again. The tears stung her swollen cheeks. They rolled off her chin, forming little tufts of icicles where they fell. "I want to go _outside_! I want to tell my sister why I've had to break her heart all these years! Just to tell her that it's _not_! _My_! _FAULT_!"

She jammed her finger at the ground - and then it happened. Ice lanced outward from her feet, enveloping her in a ring of azure spears. A few struck the side of her room, piercing the wallpaper.

She stared at the macabre creation as its growth slowed, then stopped completely. Her heart was pounding, but not with anger anymore. _Horror_. Horror at what might have happened if she'd had this tantrum with her father in the room. Horror as she remembered with visceral certainty why she had to remain inside: it was _very_ much her fault.

Details came in fragments. The door snapped open. Ice flaked from its hinges. Her father rushed toward her. He couldn't come close. She knew that. But he _was _coming close. He took one look at the ice spears. Only one. His gaze set. He started to climb over them. His mouth moved. She didn't register it.

"No!" she gasped finally, as if awakening from a dream. "You can't! I could hurt y-"

"No, you can't," he said. The wording was firm, undebatable, but his tone was soft. She didn't know what to do when he wrapped his arms around her, pulled her close. He never did that. "Nothing can hurt me more than seeing you in pain. Nothing."

She just kept staring past him, at the open door he'd left behind. She let his warmth envelop her while she relearned the sensation of contact.

"It's alright, Elsa. It's alright now."

She closed her eyes and buried her head into his shoulder with dry sobs. She wrapped her arms around him, pulled herself tighter, just to feel that humanness again. To know that this one person understood everything - the pressures of succeeding the throne, her powers. There were no secrets between them.

Except for one.

"It's alright, Elsa."

It wasn't. That was the one thing only she knew.

* * *

**Hello everyone. Hope you liked this first chapter. Let me set a few ground rules / principles.**

**1. This is a prelude to my main Frozen story arc, _The Ice God_. There is a plotline in there that requires more setup than I can comfortably fit inside of the work itself, so I decided that I will create this story to flesh out that topic.**

**2. I will be posting chapters on this story until it is finished. It's not going to be very long, as the idea is to lay a foundation and move back to _The Ice God._**

**3. I do not own Frozen, or any of the non-original characters featured in this story (Elsa, Anna, their parents, etc).**

**4. I do not have an update schedule, but I do have a writing schedule. I will update each chapter when I feel it is meaty and polished enough.**

**5. I like reviews, though I will never try to force them out of my readers. If you find anything confusing or off-putting, however, don't just abandon the story. Tell me why you're abandoning it, then peace out. It will help me improve and it will help me get a sense of where my readership is in relation to myself. Remember, I already know (most of) the answers! I need to make sure everyone else is following.**

**That should be everything! Enjoy the rest of the story.**

**-K**


	2. 2: Humpty Dumpty

**Chapter 2: Humpty Dumpty**

He left after only a few minutes. He'd stood with her, swaying her back and forth until the sobs stopped. Ultimately, there was nothing else he could do - she knew that, possibly more than he did. What could they talk about? What would that accomplish?

So, in the end, she'd asked to be alone, and he'd granted her wish.

She hadn't been honest with him; she was not alright. She'd only said that so that he'd leave her alone. She wasn't angry with him anymore. She just felt like a monster. Seeing her father and a ring of lethal ice spikes in the same room made her nauseated.

The day drew on, and the sun traced its inevitable arc across the sky. She did nothing but watch the ice melt, moving to a chair when there was no longer a dry place to sit. She couldn't call the servants - how could she explain a flooded room on the second floor? So she just sat, and waited.

It continued this way into the night. Mostly. Sometimes, however, she'd remember that horrifying feeling, the _what-if_ sensation. Her mind would jump to the ghastly futures that might await her if she lost control, even for a second. It made her sick. Her entire body would tense and her eyes would smart as the emotions kept rushing at her, refusing to yield no matter how she tried to force them down. No more ice came, but that did not help with the ache in her heart.

And, through it all, she was alone.

Darkness fell upon Arendelle. Only the lights of hearth and home remained. Elsa watched them go out one by one, unable to sleep, until there was only blackness. The moon had forsaken her as well, tucked behind a curtain of clouds. She could scarcely see her own fingers now, but still she could not find the will to move. There was comfort in the dark. She could simply _be_. The gloves, the misshapen remains of her icy outburst - they were invisible, unreal, and nearly forgotten.

Still, she knew the ice was still there, that her powers had not abandoned her in the night. So she stood, her legs stiffened by the hours of disuse, and fumbled about for her candle.

Its orange light cast ghastly fingers across the remains of her room. Everything was a shade darker than it should have been, soaked by meltwater. She knelt down, pressing her palm into the carpet. Water rose around it from the pressure, encircling her fingers. She waited for a moment as the water penetrated her gloves, cool and bracing, a thrill of sensation for hands that had been deprived of true contact for so long.

Cold, she could still feel.

Elsa looked up at the rest of her chambers. Of the frost, only the ring of icicles remained. They were stumps now, but still recognizable. She saw the punctures where they had torn through the wall. They were miniature abysses, torn wallpaper hanging about their edges like ruined flesh.

Suddenly the walls of her room felt closer. Too close. The air felt thick. Her heart began to pound, but she had no idea why. The creeping whine of frost followed soon after. Elsa gasped, gaze snapping to her feet. A halo of ice was spreading out from the hem of her dress.

_Don't feel! You're just making it worse!_ she told herself, but the frost did not abate. Her heart and breath rose by themselves. She couldn't breathe. The candle fell from her hands. She watched it fall, knowing that she had lost it but unable to do anything. Even as her body whipped itself into a panic, her wits slowed to a crawl.

The candle hissed as it hit damp carpet, and then went out. Darkness swooped back upon her as if it had never left. This time, however, it was not a welcome ally. Elsa's heart leaped into her chest. Her body shook. She would die if she stayed here.

She shoved off toward the door. The fact that she was blind was of no consequence; escape was the only priority. She'd just go into the hall. Some new air, _any_ other air, was all she needed.

Something dense and cold caught her shin. She fell forward, landing in the puddle that was her carpet with a _splat_. The cold rushed in a second later, washing her front with liquid relief. It helped slow the pounding of her heart, but the air remained as dense as ever. The crackling of frost only grew louder.

She pushed herself up in a manner very unfitting of a princess and stumbled into the door. Her hand jerked at the doorknob more forcefully than she had intended, but it refused to budge.

_What?!_ Her head was pounding. She needed to get _out!_

"Nngh!" She yanked as hard as she could. Ice snapped, and the knob twisted free. She pulled the door back and practically launched herself into the hall.

And then, it was quiet. Absolutely, _mercifully _quiet. The whine of frost had gone. Slowly, like finding herself after awakening from a nightmare, she looked about. The hall stretched away from her in both directions, empty and black. She gulped down the not-her-room air, then swallowed. Then gulped again, one breath at a time.

_What is wrong with me?_

She gazed searchingly at her palms, trying to find some trace of what ailed her. Of course, even without the dark obscuring her sight, she wouldn't have found anything. She knew that. But _something_ was not the same. Her misery had never been this overwhelming, her half-life this unbearable. Something needed to change.

_I need to get out._

It came to her spontaneously, refusing to fade. A million times before, she had daydreamed of ways to sneak out, just for a little while, without anyone seeing her. She'd never planned to interact with anyone, to put anyone at risk. The hobby of formulating half-baked plans just gave her some relief, some hope that in the future, things would be different.

But she'd always denied them on sight, never expecting they'd be real. This time, however, the spontaneous urge was here to stay.

She could do it. Nobody was awake at this hour. She could throw on a shabby riding cloak and take a horse from the stables. Ride out into the night, so fast that nobody would ever be able to guess that the Phantom Princess of Arendelle was among them. She could return after a few hours, before anybody woke. Nobody would ever know.

_No. This is insane. You need to rest._

She repressed the urge like she always had, turning back to the yawning doorway of her bedchamber. It was pitch-black beyond the doorway, filled with smothering darkness. _Just go in. You can do it. There's _nothing_ in there._

But there was. It wasn't something silly, like a bogeyman or lurking assassin. It was _her_, trapped in a room with nothing but herself. She couldn't imagine anything more dreadful.

"Get it together," she whispered to herself, taking a step toward the door. "You can do this."

The hallway faded to insignificance; it was just her and the door. She was almost there. Her heart began to pound again, her breathing to increase. No matter how her body warned her, however, she pushed on. _Don't give in_.

There was one foe, however, she had no hope against. Even in the dark she could see the white sheen that crept along the door frame, hear the crackling of her power as it raced up to meet her. She whimpered, drawing away from the mane of frost engulfing her door. It stopped, satisfied with her defeat.

Her room seemed even darker with the paleness around its entrance. She could not enter. With that understanding, something changed. Perhaps the fear of her room was unconquerable, but she could still master one fear tonight.

The princess stared into the abyss of the hallway, somehow infinitely more welcoming than the darkness from which she had come. Took a shaky breath. The thought of following that corridor made her heart race in such a different way. She couldn't remember the last time she had had the open sky above her head, the open wonder of the world all around her.

It wouldn't be as she remembered it, but it would _be_. That was enough.

She took one last look at her room. The jagged rim of frost looked like teeth intent on consuming her. Once she went back there, she would never get out.

Princess Elsa never felt assured about anything. She didn't feel assured now. But without knowing why or exactly when, she decided not to wait for assurance. She just took one step. Then another. And another. It wasn't long before she reached a bend in the hall. She turned back, giving her chambers one last, distant look. Her heart was pounding like never before.

She could do this. She _would_ do this. Taking one last breath, she set off toward the stables, leaving the safety and horror of her room behind.

* * *

The stables were surprisingly warm, even for July. A lamp hung peacefully from the main joist. It cast a homely yellow light upon everything, though the dry gold of hay did much to enhance that aesthetic. Horses glanced up at her casually upon entry. If she seemed out of place to them, however, it didn't bother them much; each returned to grazing as if she were a stable boy. To them, she was not a princess, not a sorceress, just another faceless human.

Everything was as she remembered it, save for the size. The castle stables were humbler than when she was eight, though it was more likely that she had grown than that the building had shrunk. That wasn't her only observation. Water had seeped into the front of her dress, darkening the soft purple to a deep violet. She wasn't sure how she felt about that, how it affected her appearance. She didn't want to think about anyone seeing her at all, much less what they thought about her when they did. Fortunately, the stables were not exactly a labyrinth, and she hadn't seen a soul upon entering. She was alone.

* * *

Adam awoke to the creaking groan of the stable doors. He blinked the sleep from his eyes and shifted slowly, ever-so-careful not to reveal himself. Perched atop the main joist, he was invisible from below - the better to drop in on an aspiring horse thief. Four years he had been taking the night watch for the stables, however, and nobody had ever bothered to test his mettle. It hadn't taken long for him to realize that his watch could be synonymous with napping, for nobody was ever awake at this hour. Even the guards slept, on call but never at the ready.

So it was that tonight's break-in was thoroughly unexpected. It didn't take long for drowsiness to be replaced with excitement. This was his chance to see what he was made of, to execute one of the many scenarios he had dreamed up over the years.

Slowly, meticulously, he turned onto his belly. The thief was directly below him, obscured by the beam but not unnoticed. He peered over the edge of his perch to get a good look at him. Never, in a million years of daydreams and practice-fights against barn doors, would he have expected what he saw.

There was no thief. In his place was a young woman, clad in a rich uniform of regal purples and blues. A single platinum braid spiraled hypnotically at the back of her head. Perhaps in the yellow light, he simply could not see them, but not a single strand seemed out of place. She held herself impeccably straight. This could not be Anna, the bouncing little energy ball that would sometimes stop by at dusk, asking him for oats to feed the horses. He wasn't sure if he believed who it _could_ be.

Princess Elsa - if the rumors among the kitchen boys were to be believed - remained still, glancing to each detail of the stables in wonderment. She wasn't like the servants and guards that formed the usual visiting itinerary. They always burst in, took what they needed, and left. All rush, barely any mind paid to the horses and grooms they passed by.

She, by comparison, looked as if she were in a dream. She couldn't be older than him, if not younger, but she seemed to be discovering an entirely new world. There was a lack of guidance to her gaze that drove the point even further - as pleased to be here as she was, she was lost.

He could tell her. He could show her the saddles, recommend the right mount. Hans was the fastest, but he could be absolutely vicious to the inexperienced. Olaf was much slower, but so mellow he could nap through a thunderstorm. He wanted to tell her more than that, even. The more he looked at the her, the less he wanted to do anything else.

Perched as he was, however, Adam knew that it was in his best interest to stay put. He doubted the future queen of Arendelle would appreciate a drop-in by a stable boy covered in hay.

The princess turned to the door, revealing a surprisingly… _wet_ dress. Adam wrinkled his brow in bemusement, but his attention was quickly drawn elsewhere. Her face, otherwise without flaw in its smooth paleness, formed the telltale creases of concern. She gazed at the stable doors with an almost _hurt_ expression. What did she see that he didn't?

A horse whinnied and pushed its nose out to her, causing her to gasp and turn in surprise. Adam smirked; Silver was such an excitable fellow. Princess Elsa stared at the expectant gelding. Her hands were raised uselessly in front of her chest, as if they might protect her from this new creature. Despite himself, Adam couldn't help but wonder from his invisible hiding place.

_They're generally not satisfied with you just staring at them, you know._

Echoing his sentiment, Silver snorted impatiently. Adam could only see the very edge of her face at this angle, but something in her expression changed. It was a smile - one so warm and natural that it overrode the traces of doubt and worry that had lingered there before. In that moment, despite having never met the mysterious Firstborn of Arendelle, Adam couldn't help but feel like that smile was more significant than any he had ever seen.

Hesitantly, like a child taking its first steps, she laid a hand on Silver's snout. The horse whinnied happily, and the princess gasped delightedly as he pushed himself deeper into the embrace. It was fleeting, but Adam even caught a soft laugh under her breath.

_Oh, come on_, he thought. The way she laughed just wasn't fair. Scintillatingly melodic, it was a restrained sound, only present for a second. Graceful, he thought, was a good way to describe it.

"You don't care what I look like, do you?" she asked, stroking the bridge of Silver's nose. Adam rolled his eyes.

_Even if he did, Your Highness, I don't think you'd be getting a different reaction._

She continued the motion for a long while, until her smile slowly began to fade. Her torso swelled as she took a deep, slow breath.

"Well…" she murmured to Silver, so low he almost missed it, "it's time to go."

She cast her gaze about the stable, slipping away from her chosen mount in search of the saddles. She was going in the wrong direction, but he was content to let her wander. The longer she stayed, the better, and she seemed smart enough to figure it out eventually. She passed beneath the joist, vanishing from sight. Adam shifted to the other side, allowing him to follow her journey among the stalls.

That's when he heard the most horrendous sound in his experience. The wood creaked.

Elsa gasped so forcefully that she might have been drowning, wheeling about and staring straight at him. If he hadn't been so smitten, he would have noticed the way her crystal eyes darted from beam to beam, searching for him but passing through him. He would have realized that in the shadow cast by the lamp below, he could have crouched unseen until her suspicions had passed.

Yet smitten he _was_, and so he defaulted to instinct: an option infinitely worse.

"Your Highness!" he exclaimed, foolishly loud and quaking as he scrambled to his feet. "I'm so- _ow_!"

Stars soared straight through her - and the joist, and the hay, and the horses - as his skull vibrated with a sharp _thud_. Right, the roof. The one five feet above the support beams.

He stumbled to keep his balance, but his foot caught only air. The stable spun haphazardly as he tumbled from his perch, spinning and whirling and head aching.

And so it was that Adam the stable boy came crashing down into Princess Elsa's life.

* * *

**There you have it! Chapter 2! Thank you Timbo and SAK00 for your reviews. Make sure you all let me know how you like the story's progression so far, and also be sure to check out The Ice God (the universes are the same)!**


	3. 3: Adam Westergard

**Chapter 3: Adam Westergard**

No no no no. Elsa felt weightless, separate from reality. She'd been seen, this boy had seen her. For how long, she couldn't even know, but there was no doubt that he had. Her mind raced, desperately searching through fragments of possible reactions. _Speak to - Anna - he'll - Mama and Papa - red hair - horses - angry._

For all her frenetic thinking, however, she could only stare dumbly at the groaning young man. His hair, though messy, was a light shade of terracotta, very reminiscent of Anna's. His cheeks were a shade discolored, maybe by dirt. It was hard to tell through his grimace. He was tall and had limbs thickened by labor. Older than her by a couple of years, maybe. She knew that she had never seen him before, which would make _his_ encounter with her all the more tale-worthy. And that would mean...

The world began to tilt. She was swaying. Elsa grabbed hold of a wooden column to steady herself. Braced against its stability, its implacable solidness, she remembered. This was real. The haze evaporated from her mind, leaving only one conclusion.

_Run_.

She turned away from the stable boy and made for the doors at the other end of the stables. It was not the way she'd arrived, but at least he wouldn't be in her way.

_Heavens, what was I _thinking_?!_ she thought. Maybe she could escape before he came to his senses, making the entire account deniable. If not… she could imagine the palace staff whispering about their hidden princess sneaking into the stables at night. Anna would hear them. Maybe she'd renew her efforts. Maybe she'd ignore it, after what had happened today.

And then there was her father. He wouldn't yell at her, he never did. But he would be disappointed. That was _worse_. She'd lost control of herself, given into her childish fear. Maybe he'd tell her so. Maybe he wouldn't. All she knew was that she would _forever_ regret this.

"Wait!"

She ignored the boy's voice. She was almost to the door. He wouldn't follow; if he did, she'd escape. He didn't know her, he wouldn't chase her. He might even think this all a dream. It was a foolish hope, but that was all she had.

The doors were dark and ominous, cloaked in the dim fringe of lamplight. She pushed on one of them as she rushed forward, only to find it surprisingly resistant. Too resistant. Her momentum carried her forward, ramming her unceremoniously into the wood face-first. It stung for a moment, but the physical pain faded quickly to panic.

_What...?!_

Upon closer inspection, she saw what the shadows had concealed. The doors were bolted by a thick beam. She grabbed at it, gloves scrambling across its length to find the best grip. The fact that she probably couldn't lift it did not occur to her.

"Don't go that way!"

The hay rustled behind her, followed by the rapid footfalls of running.

_No!_ She pushed the beam up as hard as she could. It was heavy, and she was not accustomed to the physical strain, but urgency worked wonders. The bolt jumped a few inches, almost enough to displace it from the pegs holding it in place. Just a little more-

A third hand took hold of the bolt. It was larger than hers, pale compared to her gloves. Different. It shoved the beam down, easily overwhelming her own meager strength and sealing her inside the stables.

* * *

Adam seized the princess by the shoulders. Though he made sure to be gentle, he had to get himself between her and the door. She couldn't be blamed for panicking at his _introduction_, but now that his reputation could get no worse, he figured he might as well do them both a favor. The stables' back exit led out into the courtyard; if she were seen at this time of night, the alarm would be raised before anyone knew what was really going on. He could hardly imagine that she, or the stable boy she would inevitably describe running from, would profit from that little debacle.

"Let me go!" She pulled away from him, and he did did not restrain her. She swept a strand of platinum hair away from her eyes, drawing attention to a darkening patch of pink where she had banged her head. Adam suddenly found himself at a loss for words. Being trapped between a bolted door and a royal that had just discovered him _spying_ on her was not in his repertoire of witty comebacks.

"I'm sorry! It's just that… well, there are guards that way. I mean, I know you're a roy- the _princess_, well _a_ princess, and guards aren't a problem for you, but it's really late…" He had to admit that it wasn't his best work, but he hadn't expected her to ignore him. She had cast her gaze to the floor, eyes darting in a mad search for something he could not see. "Did you, uh… drop something?"

"No!" she replied, louder than he had expected. "I… I just have to go. Now. I'm sorry."

He hadn't expected that. _Sorry?_

She spun back toward the castle-side entrance, and he let her go without a fight. Based on how the encounter had gone so far, he figured that was wisest.

She was only halfway to the doors when they vibrated with three pounding knocks.

"Adam! We heard a noise! What is going on in there?!"

His eyes widened to the size of golf balls. It was Henrik, the captain of tonight's watch. Of all nights to be attentive, to use the _opposite_ door, it had to be this one. Naturally.

The princess froze in place, growing more erect - if that were possible. She looked back at him, neither pleading nor commanding. Just… trapped. He saw everything in her eyes: doubt, fear, curiosity. All hinging on what he did next.

In that moment, he and she were connected. It was as simple as that. His decision did not take long to follow.

"Adam! We're coming in!"

* * *

Elsa's heart was pounding. She heard the grating of wood on wood as the stable doors were unlocked. Frigid air began to radiate from the hem of her dress. _No!_

"No! No, no need for that!" Adam, as he was apparently named, cried hurriedly. He fixed her with a meaningful glare, jerking his head toward the stalls. "_Hide,_" he mouthed, almost angry in his urgency. She looked about for an open one behind which to crouch, but their gates formed a continuous wall of pine. She pulled at her dress, hoping to God it would give her enough mobility to climb over them. It quickly became obvious that it wouldn't. She looked back at Adam helplessly as he rushed toward the door.

"What's going on in there?!" the guard asked again, though the door remained mercifully closed. "We heard a crash!"

"Yeah, sorry about that!" Adam replied with a nervous laugh. His expression, however, did not match the sound; he was almost grimacing when he reached her. "_Forgive me, Your Highness," _he muttered. Suddenly his hands had snagged her about the waist. She stifled a gasp as he swung her up and over one of the stalls, dropping her beside a bronze palomino. She might as well have been a doll. Her shoes sank a good two inches into the muddy soil, as did the fringe of her dress.

"I, uh… I fell! Down from the joist, _yes_, the joist..." he continued, proceeding to the door. He'd barely broken stride. "Started to doze off. Can get a little monotonous on night watches, you know? "

Elsa ducked behind the cover of the stall, doing her best to keep her dress bunched at her knees. The effort was soon defeated by a nauseous wave of stench. There was a soft pattering behind her, not at _all_ like the formation of ice. The princess looked back to see a newly-forming pile of… _excrement_ between the horse's rear legs.

She clamped a hand over her nose and screwed her eyes shut, suppressing the urge to gag with all her might. _Conceal it, don't feel it, conceal, don't feel…_

* * *

The door swung wide a second before he reached it, nearly clipping him on the nose. Henrik stood there in all his uniformed glory, graying sideburns and all. Josef and Lars stood behind him; the torch Josef was holding made his smirk of amusement all-too visible. Adam normally would have dreaded the teasing he'd get from the younger guards. Tonight, however, knowing the truth of the situation gave him infinitely more satisfaction than they could tear down.

As it was, Henrik cast his eyes about the stables. Being that he did not immediately widen them and mutter "princess" under his breath, Adam took it that she had managed to get over the smell.

"See?" Adam gestured to the horses. "Just me being an oaf."

Henrik's face remained drawn, gray and ashen in the dimness offered by the torch.

"You got an awful lot of men out of their beds, Adam."

"Hey, two years on the job without a peep. I said I was sorry."

The guard captain's eyes merely scanned him head to toe, obviously not impressed with his track record.

"I'm sure you are," he said flatly, hands clasped behind his back. "But let's have another two years before you nap on the job again, shall we?"

Adam clenched his teeth, biting back the half-dozen retorts that came to mind. Most of them would probably get him fired anyway, one way or another.

"Yes, sir."

Henrik's only sign of acknowledgement was a slight pinching at the corners of his eyes. He turned to the younger men at his side. Their smirks faded almost as fast as Adam's appeared. Henrik jerked his head in the direction of the barracks, and all three promptly made off across the courtyard. Henrik began to detail orders as they left; Adam leaned out the door just far enough to catch a few words.

"I want you two at the entrances," Henrik said. "What with the Stabbington rumors going about, I don't want to take any chances. Josef, you take the…"

They faded before he could catch any more, but the overall message was clear enough. It looked like he might be having company tonight, a fact about which he was both happy and upset. He should have been dreading his involvement in all of this; involvement with royal drama could bring only harm. And yet…

He pulled the doors shut, letting them settle together with a wooden rumble. "Remind me never to go military, no matter how poor I get," he muttered. The embers of his frustration with Henrik were still warm.

He turned back to the stables. The princess was still hidden, which actually surprised him. He'd half-expected her to be clambering up the side of the stall by now, desperate to get away from the smell of horse dung. He waited for her to peek over the stall. She'd realize they were gone. Eventually. Right?

Seconds passed by in silence. Hans snorted, turning a half-caring glance of amusement his way. _She has ears, you know_, the arrogant stallion seemed to say. _You may want to communicate with them. That's what you humans do, isn't it?_

Adam rolled his eyes. She was a princess - his employer, really. He just didn't want to lose the only job he'd ever kept. At this point, however, any eggshells he'd been walking on were pulverized. In that moment, caution seemed… relative.

* * *

The smell was terrible; worse, the thought of it _right there_. In a pile. Adam had closed the door seconds ago, the endless variety of second that seemed to last forever and ever. But Elsa dared not come up for air; all they had to do was see her _once_. That would be all it took for rumors to start, for her to create a mess so large that even her father might not be able to clean it up. Not to mention her breaking of the one rule, the _one thing_ for which she was responsible.

Stay out of sight, learn to control yourself. Lessons that, after today, should have been fresher than ever. Yet she had shattered them.

"They're gone. You can come out."

She didn't need to be told twice, forcing her expression to even as she rose. The smell of dung tried ever harder to coax vomit out of her. She just wanted to get _out_.

The door was tied off by a loop of hemp rope. She reached out to loosen it, only to realize that she hadn't the slightest idea how. Adam was still leaning against the stable doors, eyebrow raised expectantly. She felt hot under his gaze, nowhere to go but back behind the chest-high wall of wood between them.

"I…" Elsa cleared her throat, trying to attain the calmest expression she could. Her cheeks were burning, her forehead still throbbed, and never more had the threat of her powers being discovered been so real. All of that, however, did not mean she had to lose dignity completely. "Thank you for your help… Adam." It felt odd addressing anyone other than her parents. "Now… I would appreciate it greatly if you would let me out."

He did not react immediately. She saw his chest heave with a pointed breath, though he did not sigh audibly. He just seemed… tired, or disappointed. Maybe both. "Of course... Your Highness."

She couldn't look him in the eye as he meandered to the gate and unhitched it. He stood aside for her as the door swung open, keeping the wall of wood between them. She clasped her hands to her front and stepped out of the stall, doing her best to ignore the fact that the hem of her dress was drenched in mud.

She turned her gaze to the doors from which she had come; the same doors that the guards had nearly burst through to find her. Before she could make for them, however, Adam spoke again.

"I know this has gone a little strangely, for both of us…" he began, eyes focused on her as if it were a strain to keep them there. "But… if I could just start over, my name is Adam Westergard. I tend the horses at night. You heard that, I'm sure." He shrugged with a nervous smirk. "Look, I, uh… I wasn't spying on you before. I was just sleeping up in the rafters. You surprised me… last thing - _person_ - I expected to see on a night like this was you."

Elsa averted her eyes. This was hardly the way she'd expected her birthday to go, either.

"Look, what I'm trying to say is… I probably scared you, and I'm sorry for that, but hopefully I just made up for it."

She looked up at him, this time with the true intent to _observe_ him. Everything that had happened tonight had been a frenzy of emotion: fear, grief, anger, confusion, panic. Nothing seemed clear until… now. Suddenly, she _didn't_ feel threatened by this stable boy. In that moment, she didn't hear the rasping whine of frost. She didn't fear that one mistake could launch a deluge of rumors. She didn't bear the weight of hers and Anna's broken bond.

She just… _was_.

Adam's shoulders were broad - he almost seemed like a giant against her. His face, however, was not that of a brute. Framed by mess of terracotta hair, only somewhat shaven, and smudged just the slightest bit, she hadn't seen his cleverness. It was in the way he smirked when he shrugged; his eyebrow rose exaggeratedly, and his lips folded inward in just such a way that she could see the energy in his heart. Most of all, however, she saw how his eyes widened with the expression, bright little emeralds of activity. She wanted to learn more about him. It had been so long since she'd spoken to anyone…

_No. Stop it, you've gone far enough._

Rationality came crashing down like a gavel. She stepped back.

"You have," she assured him, arms pulled to her sides. "Thank you, but… I really do have to go..."

She turned back to the doors. They seemed almost as dreadful as her room before. This time, however, she did not hesitate, striding as calmly as possible toward them. Toward the prison that was her own bedchamber.

"Actually…" She froze in place at the sound of his voice. "You may not want to go just yet."

_Stop, just stop listening_. She was growing to dislike her own thoughts more and more.

"What?" she asked, voice hardly above a whisper as dread began to rise within her.

"Well, erm... it's just that I was listening to the guards as they walked off, and Henrik - I mean, the guard captain - posted men at the castle's entrances. So there's no way they'd miss you."

_What?_ Once more, her stomach began to flutter. The castle… was closed off? _How will I get back?!_

"Oh," was all she muttered, turning her gaze to nowhere in particular. _Think. _Think!_ You have to be in your room! You should never have _been_ here!_

* * *

He could see it in her eyes, the way they twitched back and forth - thinking, thinking like crazy. Not in the way Anna was sometimes wonted, with the lip-biting and foot-tapping. This looked like _panic_. The way her expression darkened, the way she seemed to wilt in on herself. He felt stressed just _looking _at her. He'd seen the other side of her, the _better _side, when she'd been petting Silver and when she'd looked at him a moment ago.

He wanted to see more of that. To hell with formality. If she wanted him fired, she had plenty of grounds for that already. Tearing down a false facade of formality would be the most sensible thing happening tonight.

"Look, Princess Elsa, I think at this point I can be honest with you, you're obviously not supposed to be here right now." Her gaze darted back to him suddenly, as if she'd forgotten that he was there. "I don't know why, and really, it's not my place to ask. All I know is that I hate Henrik, so…" He extended a hand toward her, eyebrows raised. "How 'bout I help you out of this little mess, okay?"

Her eyes flickered down to his hand, hanging in awkward loneliness above the mud. He smirked a little; how _did_ you make accords with a royal?

"You're supposed to shake it," he offered, pushing it a little closer.

Elsa swallowed, and for a second it seemed like she might turn and run anyway. Then, gaze firmly fixed on her own hand, she reached out and met his. Her grip was gentle, as if she were afraid of hurting him. He smirked and gave a brief flick of the wrist before pulling away.

"Good." He meandered toward a ladder balanced at the far end of the stable. "Now let's find you somewhere to rest."

He wouldn't have believed that her eyes could could go wider, but she quickly proved him wrong. "Wait, _rest_?"

"Of course!" he replied, placing a boot on the first rung. "It's late. I don't know if princesses have bedtimes, but I'm guessing you don't want to stand in horse mud all night."

"_All night?_" Her hands curled back to her sides. "I thought you said you'd help me get out of here!"

"I'm pretty sure I said I'd help you out of this mess, not out of the stable." He held out a calming hand when she winced. "Look, I know when the guard changes. Henrik isn't going to keep men out there for the - well, _your_ _parents _to see, if I may be so bold."

She didn't seem convinced. "He won't?"

He shook his head. "No, he won't. I can tell. You'll be able to waltz right in, come morning."

She made a pained little grimace, gazing doubtfully back at the doors.

"Princess Elsa?" He tried to assume the softest, most comforting expression he could muster. "Do you trust me?" The way she looked back at him, full of vulnerability and uncertainty, filled him with emotion. It wasn't attraction… more like protectiveness. He was even so brazen as to offer his hand to her, palm upturned and open.

Her eyes flickered to his palm, then back to him. They were the only part of her that moved. Everything else was frozen, trapped in limbo between acceptance and denial.

_Don't do this to yourself_, he urged her. _You'll get caught. You will._

She must have heard him, stepping forward and nodding her head. She did not take his hand, almost pointedly so, so he let it fall to his side. But it was her words that mattered.

"I… I do."


	4. 4: Here is This Other

**Chapter 4: Here is This Other**

His hand was hanging there, practically begging her to take it. There could be no other meaning. Years of instinct, however, forbade her. Try as she might, she couldn't remove her hands from her ribs.

"I… I do."

When his arm fell to his side, however, Elsa did not see the tired disappointment that had been there before. He had this faint smile, not of amusement, but of _knowing_. Like he just _understood_.

"Okay." His words cut through her thoughts, silencing to the storm in her mind. "Then let's get you somewhere to rest. Follow me, it smells a little less up here."

She followed the course of the ladder with her eyes as he began to climb. The siding of the wall extended inward in this corner of the stables, forming something of an alcove between the rafters and the roof. A solid platform of wood, a few inches thick perhaps, provided a makeshift flooring. It made it impossible to see what was above, but at least she wouldn't have to be hanging from the rafters.

"It's a lot worse than you're used to, I'm sure, but… well, you'll see," Adam called over his shoulder, swinging over the platform and out of sight. She took a bracing breath and laid her hand on the ladder. The pale blue of her glove blended strangely with the ruddy wood, marred as it was by mud. She stared at it and stared at it, waiting for the ice to form while praying that it wouldn't.

For the first time in forever, her prayers were answered.

The knowledge alone that her powers were at peace - if even only for the moment - made some of her fear subside. Gravity seemed less important, and she was soon climbing after Adam.

His back was to her when she crested the platform's edge, silhouetted by the glow of a newly-lit lantern. The ceiling hung above them, leaving just enough room to sit comfortably. A mat was laid out in the corner, along with a rolled blanket that might have served as a pillow. There was also a small length of wood placed beside it, thin and irregular, and a knife that had probably been used to whittle it. Her eyes widened; she hadn't known what to expect, but this looked like a…

A room.

"You don't have to worry about the floor, I scrub it every night. Otherwise mud gets everywhere." He turned back to her, a lantern in one hand and a smoking match in the other. She met his gaze questioningly, causing his energetic features to fade to something more bemused.

"Do you… live here?" she asked, surprise temporarily overwhelming any pretense of formality.

"Ah…" He sighed, setting the lantern down and tossing the match through a small gap in the roofing. "Not _here_, exactly. This is just where I wait out my watch. Except tonight, obviously." He gestured to the main joist with a laugh. "But you got a good glimpse of that."

She did not reply, caught up in a sudden realization. He probably spent a good deal of time here. A _great_ deal of time here. In this platform, in this… _room_.

"I guess it's as much a home as any, being on duty every night," he consented, shrugging. "But I won't bore you with that, it's a… it's not as bad as you might think. Here, let me give you a hand."

He offered his hand again. She almost leaned back out of instinct. Almost. The repulsion that she had trained in herself for so long felt… weaker, somehow. Her powers were quiet, and she hadn't hurt him when they shook hands… maybe…

"Don't worry, I don't bite," he said with a comforting smile. She swallowed.

_It's not him you're afraid of._

Her hand trembled as she put it to rest in his, but there was no grimace, no gasp of surprise from him at the contact. His smile just widened, and he pulled her up onto the platform easily.

Her heart slowed just a little bit more.

"There's only straw in the mat, but you're welcome to it," he offered. "I'm sure it's no royal mattress, but it's better than hardwood, if my opinion's worth anything."

"Thank you," she replied, not knowing what else to do. She leaned against the wall and drew her knees into her chest. Adam leaned against a column at the edge of the platform and stretched, rubbing at the back of his neck with a grimace. Neither of them spoke for a few seconds, though she wanted to. What was there to say? How did one make conversation with a servant? The polite addresses her father had taught her seemed trite here. She wished that she could feel as at-ease as he seemed; any pretense of nervousness had faded from him the moment he had offered to help her. So much so that he managed to pick up the slack of her silence.

"So, here's the plan," he began, picking himself up and crouching by the wall. His hair almost brushed the roofing, so close was he to its sloping end. He pointed to a small opening in the woodwork, the same that he had thrown the match through earlier. "When the sun rises, it makes an orange glow through this crack. When the light covers half of its length, Henrik rotates off duty and Espen - the day-shift captain - will take over. That's when most of the other guards will return to the barracks. You following me so far?"

She blinked, surprised by how quickly his tone had taken on energy and directness. It was all she could do to nod and digest the rush of information.

_Sun rises, light halfway down the crack, Espen, shift change._

"Good. When the guards change, there will be a few minutes where they'll all be inside the barracks receiving their orders. It'll still be early in the morning, so hopefully nobody in the castle will be awake. I know I never see anyone when I stop by the kitchens for my… wages." He shifted uncomfortably at that, but continued before she had much time to dwell on it. "I'll take a look out when I think it's time. If they've left their posts, you'll want to make a run for it. If you move quickly, you should be able to get back to your room - or wherever you're supposed to be - without anyone noticing."

* * *

He wished she could have seen herself. She was doing it again - eyes flitting from here to there, obviously not focused on the objects in front of her so much as the thoughts in her head.

This, however, was no spell of panic. In fact, he had a hunch this was something very few people got to see. This was Princess Elsa the student, consuming and digesting every detail out of his mouth. He could practically see the words running across her irises, like windows into her mind.

"Should I repeat anything?" he asked, trying to suppress a smile when her eyes snapped back to him.

"I… _no_. Thank you."

_Thank you._ Did she have to end every sentence with that phrase? Probably the work of some etiquette tutor.

"Alright then," he said, resuming his position against the beam. "When will we know that the guard is changing?"

"I'm sorry?"

"I just want to see if you remembered everything." He offered her a soft grin. "So how will we know when the guard changes?"

"The light," she replied simply, nodding to the gap as if it were common knowledge. "The light of the sunrise will show through this crevice. When half of its length is illuminated, the guards will change shifts, as you said."

He noticed a slight swiftness in her voice, replacing the nervousness that had been there before. Her words flowed just a bit better, eyes slightly more focused. It seemed that Princess Elsa was quite comfortable where her wits were concerned.

"Not bad," he said. "And what happens then?"

"You will scout out the courtyard, and if the guards have returned to the barracks, I'll be able to return to the castle." Her tone was light and calm, almost _airy_. The speed with which she had changed tones was astounding; he wondered if she truly felt at home, being quizzed like this, or if it was a practiced facade.

"Pretty good," he consented. "What are the guard captains' names?"

"Henrik and… Henrik is the one to whom you spoke," she answered, her words noticeably slower. Her eyes darted away for a moment, searching for something he knew she wouldn't find. "_Mm_…"

Her eyebrows twitched downward, and she began to drop into a steady concentration. Adam couldn't help but smile a _little_… after their initial interactions, it was a joy to watch her open up. There was a nervous thrill to it all, even if it was to watch her frown when she couldn't remember a name.

Anna did that sometimes. Of course, she was always biting her lip, and it was usually over some scheme to steal chocolate from the kitchen. The subject of their ruminations aside, however, the sisters made the same thinking face. Eyebrows slanted down ever-so-slightly, eyes roaming the floor in thought. When he had first seen her, Adam had scarcely believed that Arendelle's princesses were related. Now…

_Maybe they're not so different._ After all, Elsa was here, tonight, unlike any other night. She wasn't _supposed_ to be here, or at least couldn't be seen. Something had brought her out, though. Maybe it was rebellion, maybe it was just the spirit of trying something new - he couldn't know. But there was a confused sort of adventurousness in that, and he had seen that adventurousness before. She had red hair and two little braids, loved to ride horses, and couldn't be made to stop talking for the world.

He wondered if that was in the young woman sitting across from him, eyes dancing with thought. He couldn't wait to find out.

* * *

"You want me to say it?"

Adam's voice cut through her mind like a knife. Not that it had been going anywhere.

_He said it,_ she thought, increasingly frustrated. _Why can't you remember? He said it a minute ago-_

"Because I can say it if you-"

"No, Julian, I just need a second to…" She paused, abandoning the previous problem in realization of her error.

"_Julian_?" He cocked his head a bit, mouth grinning and brow creasing. "Maybe you didn't catch it, but my name's-"

"Adam, yes, I know," she said, a little too quickly. Her face felt very… warm. It made the spot where she'd hit her head throb slightly. "Julian is my… my tutor. That's all."

"Wow, you have a tutor," Adam remarked, pursing his lips. "Not bad."

She averted her eyes, ghosting her glove over the throbbing mark on her forehead. It didn't tell her much through the fabric, but the cool moisture still trapped there felt good.

"You alright?" he asked. He frowned with concern. "I heard you hit the door from the other end of the barn. I can take a look at it if you want."

"No, that's alright," she responded, quick and decisive. "I'm fine, thank you." Adam made a face, eyes flickering upward for just an instant.

"You sure? It looks like it'll bruise."

That got her attention. "It… it does?" How would she explain _that_? Even if she got back to her room in time, she'd never be able to hide a welt on her forehead.

_You are so _stupid!she thought. _How could you, of all people, not check if a door's locked?! _

Adam chuckled softly to himself, a sound she most certainly did _not_ appreciate at the moment.

"Here," he suggested, soft and smiling, as he crawled over to her. She hesitated, paralyzed and unsure. He might change his mind about the bruising, or better yet, he might know how to prevent it altogether. Was that even possible? It probably wasn't, and in that case, why should she-

"Hey," he murmured, hanging a couple feet back. "I don't bite. Honest."

The way he tilted his head, the way he gazed at her and raised his eyebrows - it made her trepidations feel silly. Unable to think of a good reason to keep him away, she slowly inclined her head. Adam accepted the invitation, crouching at her side. He placed her chin between his thumb and forefinger and adjusted her head further, a gesture from which she immediately withdrew. He responded to her wide, demanding eyes with raised hands.

"I can't look at it if I can't get a good angle," he said. "I'm just positioning you. That alright?"

The frankness of his tone made her feel silly once again. She swallowed.

"I… yes. I'm sorry."

"Don't be." He hummed softly to himself as he tilted her head once again. The contact sent goose flesh racing down her arms. Adam's hands were warm, but most of all, she could feel the _skin_ of his fingertips, tough and callused and very much unlike her gloves. It had been so long since she'd felt anything like that. She closed her eyes, tried to focus on that feeling, only that feeling. It was foolish, it was pathetic, but it kept her mind off of the individual crouched so close beside her. She wasn't repulsed by him, it wasn't that at all. It was his mere _proximity_ that made her feel everything and nothing - confused, afraid, nervous, but also safe and a slew of other things that she couldn't even identify. She felt at war with herself, struggling in vain to control all those emotions, a storm that had always brought frost and danger with it. Tonight, however, even with a young man pinching her chin and ghosting his fingers across her forehead, that frost did not rise.

Why _was _that?

"Mmn…" Adam made a dissatisfied sound in his throat, tethering her back to reality. "Yep, that's a bruiser. No two ways about it."

Elsa slowly withdrew. She grimaced, squirming with helplessness. What could she possibly do? There would be no way to explain this - mostly to her father, but also to the servants that certainly did _not_ expect their princess to be running face-first into doors.

_At least Anna would be proud of you_, she told herself.

"Hello, Princess?"

His voice was light, amused. Her focus flickered to him, so close, emerald eyes peeking out from under his lids. "Relax, alright? You're making _me_ worried."

She couldn't help the anguished sigh that escaped her, or the words that followed. "How can I not be worried? How do I explain a bruise on my forehead?"

"What, you can't say you tripped overnight?"

She averted her eyes, unable to think of a good response. True, she _could_ say that… but she didn't _want_ to. She wasn't Anna, breaking a limb every other week.

Her silence did not deter him. "Apparently not," he muttered, squinting at her like a tailor constructing a vision. "How about this…"

His hand was back to her forehead before she could do anything but blush. She felt the customary urge to pull back, to avoid being touched, but she held herself in place. Her last withdrawal felt silly enough. His fingers plucked at small tufts of her hair, dislodging a handful that had been meticulously combed away from her forehead. She'd worked her own hair a million times before, but something about another doing it was strange. Soothing and frightening at the same time. She tried to suppress the sensation, and the thoughts that followed. _Too dangerous_.

Thought, counter-thought; impulse, counter-impulse. She hated it, hated how it taxed her mind, hated how it refused to quiet itself even in the depths of the night. Adam would not hurt her, and her magic was _silent_. _Why can't you stop being so _afraid_?_

"There." Adam's voice tore her from the torture of her thoughts once more. He was smirking proudly now, eyes focused on his handiwork. "Nothing you can't improve on, but I think it does the trick."

She raised a tentative hand to her forehead. Even through her gloves she could feel the feathery resistance of her hair, lowered in a fringe over her forehead like she'd so often worn it before. _Why didn't you think of that_?

"Instant bruise removal," he chuckled, more than a little self-satisfied. "Will that do?"

She couldn't be sure without a mirror, but with a little makeup the _idea_ certainly had merit. Relief flooded through her anew; there was a chance that she might make it through this after all. She sighed again, a small smile not far behind. He did not miss it for a second.

"I'll take that as a yes." His smile was a larger reflection of her own. "In the meantime, I think I've got something to help with the swelling." He swung over to the ladder and began to descend. He paused, chest just peeking over the edge of the platform. "I'll be right back," he added. "Alright?"

She bobbed her head ever so slightly, one corner of her mouth tilting upward with the motion. Her relief must have been easily readable, because he couldn't help but throw in one last comment. "See? Everything'll be fine."

With that he dropped out of sight, but his words remained. _'Everything'll be fine.'_ She had an excuse, she had a plan. And, for the first time… she had a _friend _to help her. A friend that just may be right after all.

She relaxed her legs, letting her knees fall from her chest and lie sideways along the bed. She cast her eyes about the quaint alcove as she smoothed out her dress. New details emerged in the absence of her stress. The shadows cast by grooves in the woodwork were no longer haunting, but intriguing. The lantern hanging at her side cast a warm glow about the place, its single orange flame swaying lazily behind its glass cage. She stared at for longer than she should have, entranced by this strange child of heat. The cold never bothered her, but there was something about warmth that she rarely got to experience. It was so foreign, calling out to something primal within her human spirit. Ice and snow were unwelcome guests that had overstayed their welcome; the soft glow of Adam's lantern drew her in, softened her thoughts until the sharpened points of ice had melted.

* * *

"Here we are…" Adam grunted, dragging himself back onto the platform. The cold, wet rag clutched in his fist made the maneuver more difficult than normal, but it was nothing he couldn't handle. Elsa turned her head to him, squeezing her eyes shut and open again in an exaggerated blink.

"Tired?" he asked.

"No." She seemed like she was about to say more, but it did not come. He unrolled the washcloth from his hand, folding it into a pad.

"Here," he offered, handing it to her. "Hold this to your forehead. I know it's not very cold, but it should help with the pain."

Her eyes flickered from him to the cloth, but only fleetingly before she took it. "Thank you," she murmured. A grateful smile twitched across her mouth, just enough time for him to catch it. He nodded in kind, leaning back with a sigh.

Moments passed in silence, but there was no discomfort like before. Elsa had transformed miraculously; her knees were laid to the side, eyes turned without focus to the splayed dress that covered them. The room seemed warmer with her calm, bringing with it a deep sense of fulfillment that he had not expected. Despite himself, he found the courage to chuckle openly.

Elsa turned to look at him, eyebrows drawn in confusion. Her gaze was steady, curiously innocent. He smirked.

"I'm sorry, it's just… I would never, in a million years, have expected something like this," he said. "Me, playing nurse to Princess Elsa of Arendelle."

"Mm." She nodded slightly, distantly, for a second. "You can call me Elsa, you know." His eyebrows rose of their own accord. She smiled, just a slight tilt of her lips. It was the first time she had directed such a gaze at him, and it removed any questions from his mind. "I think you've earned it."

"Well alright then, _Elsa_," he repeated slowly, testing the lonely name. "Shall we make the introductions, then?"

Her head tilted slightly, a motion all the more exaggerated by the arm holding a cold washcloth to it.

"Very well," she decided, nodding slightly toward him and raising a fold of her dress as if to curtsy. "Elsa of Arendelle."

He bent forward in a mock bow. "Adam Westergard of… nowhere, really. Arendelle, I guess?"

Elsa laughed in her soft manner, raising her fingertips to her lips. "Very formal of you."

"Yeah, well, what with my noble lineage and all," he chuckled, throwing his hands up helplessly. "I gave it my best shot."

"You didn't do so poorly."

He curved his brow skeptically. "Your kindness is appreciated. Inaccurate, but appreciated."

"_Deserved_ is the best word, I think."

He cocked his head back at that, surprised by her openness. That feeling was shared, apparently, because he saw the pink bloom that made its way across her pale cheeks. "I… you've been a great help to me. Court manners aren't going to change that."

Her jaw set, and he could tell she was not happy with the choice of words. That pleased him, more than anything - seeing her stressed about something _other_ than getting back to her room was a fantastic start.

"Well, that's good," he replied. "Because a place that smells like this is has me sunk as far as manners go."

She tried to stifle the laugh that followed that statement, failing in what almost looked like a hiccup. Her eyes were wide with surprise at his directness, underscored by the crystalline glove covering her mouth.

"Not that I have a mind for being polite in the first place," he muttered. Perhaps he had gone too far with that one.

The rosy tone of her cheeks did not fade, but she uncovered her mouth anyway. "No, it's alright. You're quite right about that."

"It's actually not so bad. Horses are lightweights in the… smell department." He found himself on a conversational path on which he didn't necessarily like being. "Then again, after you've spent your life in a castle, I'd wager this place could make eyes water."

Her cheeks returned to their pale hue. He watched the faint ghost of her smile melt away, leaving only a distracted, hollow expression. "Mm," was all she managed to say in return.

He cocked his head, pursing his lips ever-so-slightly. What was it with her? He'd almost dared to believe that he had drawn her out. Almost every other subject seemed to shove her back into this... _shell_. Her beauty be damned, he wasn't going to get anywhere with her anyway. He knew that. At this point, it was more like coaxing out a scared kitten than making a friend. He'd always been fond of kittens.

"Not that you haven't probably seen way more than I have," he added, trying to switch paths. "All those dignitaries and tradesmen coming to see your father. _Princes_, even." He raised his eyebrows suggestively. " I'm lucky if the guards look at me when they get horseshoes."

She offered him a sympathetic look, barely sincere in its constructedness. Her eyes flickered downward almost immediately after, dwelling on the purple folds of her dress. "I don't know as many princes as you might think," she murmured, drawing an arm across her midriff.

"Well, more than me at least!" he laughed, crossing his arms resolutely. "Come on. If you've gotten away with never seeing a noble for this long, I'd be speechless."

Her lips folded inward, and her brow creased almost unnoticeably. Almost. Before he could say anything, however, her brows lowered just a fraction more. Then she turned her gaze back to his.

"It's not as interesting as you might imagine," she said, voice direct and with purpose. "I preside over diplomatic sessions and council meetings, when they're held. It's not all fraternizing and champagne."

"I didn't say it was, but _come on_." He leaned forward, crossing his arms. "You're a _princess_! You get to see things that someone like… that _I_ would never get to see! How do you run a country, what do all of you talk about?"

_Nothing_. She wasn't angry at him, she couldn't be; how could he know how much his words jabbed at her, reminded her of what was waiting back in the castle? Sure, she was here now, but her life was still out there, _it _was still inside of her.

"Nothing exciting. Trade legislation, tax policies, treaty updates. I… they never stay long. My father usually visits other kingdoms."

"Hm." Adam leaned back, eyes lowered in thought for a moment. She couldn't bring herself to interrupt the silence. Her knees suddenly seemed very far away; she felt naked, open, without them close to her. Before she could shift, however, Adam intervened.

"I've been kicked by a horse before, you know," he mentioned casually, as if discussing how cold yesterday had been.

She was almost as shocked as she was confused. "What?"

"Square in the chest, really." He smirked, patting his breastbone. "Ol' Hans down there. The royal stallion." He jabbed his thumb over the edge of the platform. She leaned forward, catching a glimpse of the creamy equine's mane.

"We were, erm… _checking up_ on him." Adam laughed to himself. "Apparently I checked up on him a tad too _well_."

Her brows knit in bemusement. "I'm sorry?"

He opened his mouth to speak, but paused. His eyes darted away from hers, searching for words she could only guess.

"Let's just say I… I combed him in a sensitive area," he decided, eyes heavy with meaning. A hot blush filled her cheeks as she leaned back, and her hand made it halfway to her mouth before she thought to stop it.

"Oh."

"Yeah." He chuckled, aiming a spiteful glance at "Hans." "Stable master said I should've been dead."

When a smile tried to creep onto her face, she let it. "Really?"

"Really," he parroted, smirk ablaze. "Sent me sailing right into the door like a flag ship. Little guy's been holding a grudge ever since."

She laughed, and this time her hand made it all the way to her mouth. He accepted it graciously, palms raised in indifference. "We all have stories to tell, Elsa. You might be surprised who's interested."

Her laughter quieted with the unexpected poignance of his reply. His smile had softened to expectancy, and he drew himself up with legs crossed and back erect. Waiting. She sighed.

_It's your turn now._

Elsa felt like she was at the brink of a precipice, a threshold she had never before crossed. She had never even considered to remember such things, curious anecdotes that might make for good stories one day. Why would she ever need to? Whom would she ever tell?

Now, however, with Adam sitting quietly and her powers silent, she _needed _to tell him something. Anything. After all, she may never have this chance again.

"The Foreign Minister of the Southern Isles picks his nose," she murmured, surprised by what she had decided on.

Adam's eyes widened with incredulity and uncertainty. "What?"

"The… the Foreign Minister of the Southern Isles…" she swallowed, suddenly quite uncertain if this had been the wisest secret to share. "Picks his nose."

The air hung thick with silence for one dreadful second. Then he lost it, choking out laughter as he tried to stay under the ears of the guards.

"_What_? Oh, my goodness, that is too perfect." The stable boy dropped against the wall, eyes shut with mirth. "_How_ do you know that?"

Something began to rise within her. Something that hadn't arisen in _years_. It egged her on, only added to her almost insane urge to be very unlike the last eight years of her life.

"He did it coming out of the water closet, when he thought no one was watching." A little breath of amusement escaped her. Heavens, this felt good. "And the Baron of Northland bumped into a table at the stateroom because he was staring at one of the maids!"

"Well, it's good to know that _that's_ the same everywhere," he chuckled. "Kai takes ten seconds to stare at Gerda's behind every time he sees her."

Her eyes widened. "What?"

"Ohh, _yes_." He nodded emphatically. "Rumor has it that they have a special closet. One that only _they_ have the keys to." He winked, and she reddened at the implication.

"That can't be true. My father would know about it."

Adam shrugged, outer lip puffed out. "Maybe he does. Those two've been heading up the staff way before I ever got here; I won't say I know any more about it than you, but maybe he just _lets_ them."

She arched an eyebrow. "Or you're wrong."

Adam laughed. "Not possible." There was a brief pause, punctuated only by the fading sighs of their laughter. "You know, I don't think I should be sharing this information with you. Might get some people fired."

She blinked. "What? No, I would never-"

"I'm joking," he added. "I trust you just fine."

She felt her cheeks warm again. She averted her eyes, laying the washcloth at her side to trace her fingertips over the creases in her gloved palms. She wasn't sure where this sudden confidence was coming from - or even if she could justifiably call it confidence - but now, opened, she could not stop herself.

"Thank you, for being patient with me."

Adam sighed. "I'm starting to think that 'thank you' is all you know how to say. Do I have Julian to blame for that?"

"No, I mean it, please." She was more curt than she might have otherwise desired, but her greatest fear now was that he would bring back her cowardice. She didn't want to live with another word unsaid. "I know I can be… I've been shutting you out, letting all of this get to me, and… you've been wonderful. Really." It sounded like some kind of flattery, so undecorated and honest. But as nervous as she'd felt saying it, she could not describe how much lighter she felt. She hadn't said much, really… but she'd said _something_, and that was more than she had done in a very long time. "So thank you."

Adam did not respond immediately. He beheld her thoughtfully, taking a long, slow breath. Air whistled through his nostrils as he let it go, like a nobleman exhaling pipeweed. Just as she began to feel discomfort, he broke the silence again.

"Well, then you're welcome. It was… worth the effort." He smiled, tilting his head at the choice of words. "Anna's very lucky to have a sister like you."

There it was again. Elsa folded her hands inward at the sickening pit that formed in her stomach. Desperate to avoid it, she turned her gaze to the small length of wood lying at the side of the bed. It was straighter than she had noticed before, with tiny indentations along the top that could only have been…

_Holes?_

Too hesitant to touch it, she settled for asking him. "What's this?"

"That? Oh, it's… it's nothing." He rose to a crouch and practically reached across her to retrieve the little carving. He rocked back suddenly, landing on the wooden platform with a dull _thud_. She put a hand out to steady herself as the platform shook.

"Don't worry, it won't fall. Benedikte and I put it up ourselves."

She wasn't sure if she should be comforted by that. "Benedikte?"

"The Stable Master. Well, the big one." He smirked, toying with the bit of wood absent-mindedly. "I'm just the spare."

"You seem to do quite well," she gently offered.

"Mm." He paused for a second, digesting her words. She couldn't be certain of it - his face was a bit ruddy - but she thought she saw a rosy hue rise to his face. "When I was a little boy, I had this flute. My father gave it to me; he said that music stays with any person, no matter where they go. That a man without music is not a whole man. So I made this one."

She smiled, settling softly against the wall. Her face was burning, but she didn't mind anymore. "That's beautiful."

He smiled for a second, letting his lips quickly fall back down.

"My father was… he was a good man."

"What happened to him?"

Adam flipped the flute around his finger. "Lost at sea. The ocean'll take anyone, rich or poor, good or bad."

"I'm… I'm sorry."

"Bah." He waved his hand. "It was a long time ago. I just started carving this thing to pass the time. There's not much to do most of the time. I don't get many princesses crashing in in the middle of the night."

She laughed. "As I remember it, you were the one that crashed."

He joined her laughter. After the sudden somberness that had taken him, it was a relief to hear that crisp a sound. "That I did. I'm starting to think you're too smart for my own good."

She smiled. "Thank you."

"_Thank you._" He smirked, eyebrows raised. "Well, you're polite enough to be a princess, that's for sure."

She restrained the girlish urge to say it again, if not just to annoy him. It was such an alien feeling, this playfulness. Similar, yet different from what she'd felt as a child.

"Do you know how to play it?"

"What, the flute?" he asked. He cast a doubtful glance at the thing. "Honestly, if it makes any sound at all, I'd be impressed."

Copying his action before, she clasped her hands on her lap and sat back, patiently awaiting his performance. Adam rolled his eyes and raised the flute to his lips.

She wondered what it would sound like with eager anticipation. She hadn't heard music since her piano lessons as a child - they'd been swiftly canceled upon the realization that she could freeze the keys by accident. No matter what he played, she couldn't imagine that she'd find it-

_FWOOM!_

She gasped, bracing herself against the wall behind her as the shrieking honk blasted through the air. Adam was hunched forward, a dusty cloud that he had blown from the flute settling lazily on the woodwork. He glanced up at her askance.

"Sorry for the noise," he said, though she could see the grin eating at his features. "Had to get the wood shavings out."

She just stared at him, bug-eyed and softly panting.

"You okay?"

She swallowed, trying to regain her composure. "I… yes. Just startled."

"I can see that. Sorry, again." The fact that he was fighting his obvious amusement was something, at least. "Let's see if I can't calm you down."

His body rocked backwards as he began to play. The sound was radically different from its predecessor: a low, haunting whistle, one that he quickly brought up to a higher note. The melody was jarred in places by a warped tune or flat, but Adam's fingers danced across the holes with deft precision. A chill went up her spine, and quite suddenly she found her heart beating faster not out of fear, but something altogether more mysterious.

Adam had closed his eyes, and she had the sense that it was no longer just the two of them. He swayed with the music, occasionally creasing his features as he winced at a mistake or bobbed with a perfect note. His blindness allowed her eyes to roam, first over the dim lamplight and then onto his face, his fingers as they danced. It wasn't until her eyes began to sting that she realized just how _tired_ she was, how late the night had grown. Her "argument" with Anna, even the spell of panic in her room, seemed forever away.

When her eyelids began to droop, she resisted. She knew what she would find come morning. Her room, her powers, closed and secret. This adventure would have to end. So it was that Adam noticed her bobbing head and kept playing, only occasionally glancing her way, until the Firstborn of Arendelle slipped slowly down onto the bedroll and lay still.

* * *

He didn't stop playing until he was sure of it. Elsa's body moved rhythmically with her breathing, curled neatly upon his bedroll. Her mouth lay open ever-so-slightly, lips smooth and impeccable borders to the darkness beyond. He sighed and looked at her for awhile, wondering at how such a person could exist. Kind, beautiful, smart - albeit more withdrawn than a shell-shocked turtle - she had gone over and above his expectations. He had met girls in the past, fooled around with more than one of them. Elsa was different. She was the first girl he'd ever want to be his _friend_.

Slowly, so as to not shake the platform, Adam rose and unrolled the blanket. She murmured something unintelligible as he draped it over her. He just smiled, as he found himself doing an awful lot tonight, and murmured his response. "Good night, Princess."

The horses were mostly silent as he descended back to the ground. He could only justify staring at her for so long, but the building felt suddenly empty in her absence. He loved the horses, their personalities, their most hated trick or favorite snack. After tonight, however, they would forever seem like hollow company.

A disdainful snort sounded from his back. Adam turned to face Hans, the horse eying him neutrally as he downed his late night snack of hay. The stable boy just smirked, narrowing his eyes at the cynical stallion.

"You're just bitter because you guessed wrong."

* * *

**I owe you all an apology. It has been ages since I updated, you probably all assumed this story was dead. That's fair, I know I would have. Alas, it is not, and I will do my utmost to be better. Goodness knows there are enough unfinished fics with my name on them. That being said...**

**This scene. Oh my God. This scene. Words cannot describe how much hassle this gave me. The hardest thing to write of my career. I have worked on this damn thing _every day_ since I last posted. It's not even that long, for that much work, but almost everything on here was rewritten at some point. You can blame me, but it's truly Elsa's fault. Getting that girl to warm up to another person is the hardest thing I've ever had to pull off. The conversation kept going in loops no matter what I did, with Elsa trying to speak, then going right back into her cocoon when Adam so much as mentioned the castle, or Anna, or her life at all, really. I suppose I should be happy - it means Elsa's character is really shining through - but I am so fed up with her shy/protection bullshit. Seriously. Now I know why Anna got so frustrated.**

**Anyway, given that I so painstakingly tried to preserve Elsa's character, how did I do? Does she feel like a 16-year-old Elsa would feel? How about Adam? Now that you know more about him, do you like him? Does he seem like a jerk? Your thoughts are welcome!**


	5. 5: A Good Night's Sleep

**Chapter 5: A Good Night's Sleep**

"Rrrgh!"

Anna threw herself across the bed, ignoring the tangle of sheets and comforters that did their best to impede her. She buried her face in her pillow, forcing herself to lie still for at least a few seconds. Perhaps _this_ position would finally allow her to sleep.

It didn't. The young princess huffed and turned onto her back, staring helplessly at the black canopy of her bed. How long had she been lying here? It had to be at least an hour. Maybe a half hour, but that was being _really_ skimpy. She sighed; she was only making the effort because her mother had been in.

_"Get some rest, Anna,"_ she'd said, with a little kiss on the forehead. _"You'll feel better in the morning."_

"It _is _the morning," she grouched. How could anyone expect her to sleep after a day like today? Better yet, why had she been so _hopeful_ in the first place? What, after all this time, could have _possibly_ led her to believe that Elsa would come out? And for what, chocolate?

"Pfft." She rolled to the side, pulling the comforter up to her nose. She stared vehemently out the window at the 543 white pinpricks of starlight glimmering in the night sky.

Counting hadn't helped her sleep either.

"Bet Elsa's sleeping just fine," she grumbled into the cloth covering her mouth. Pretty Elsa, with her pretty bed, sleeping as peacefully as pretty Sleeping Beauty. She probably slept much the same as she did when they were little: turned to her side, hands tucked neatly under her head, hair somehow staying perfect throughout the night. Anna remembered that pose clear as crystal; it was one of the sharpest memories of Elsa that she had. Not that she wouldn't welcome new ones if Elsa would just _let_ her.

"Or even tell me _why_!" She slapped her hand against the pillow and bounced onto her back once more. The springs of the bed groaned against her sudden movement. "Why can't she just talk to me? Am I that bad? Do I stink? Am I too loud? Because I'm only that loud to get your attention, _sis_!"

She raised her hands to the darkness, little claws of stress that hovered for a moment before collapsing onto the pillow with a muffled _thump_. _Why_? What had she done so _wrong_ that she wasn't even allowed to give Elsa a birthday gift? Why was it always Elsa's business when she asked her parents about it? Why could _Julian_ - that mean, _mean_ little man - see her every week, while her own sister was lucky to get a glimpse of her dress as she closed the door? And most of all, why was _she_ the only one not in on it? Sometimes she felt like everyone saw something she didn't. Something ugly.

The water that pooled in her eyes only made her angrier. "No. That's not true. It's her fault. I didn't do anything wrong." She sniffed, wiping her tears on the blankets. She curled into their meager, comforting embrace, drawing in the softness around her as memories rushed to her unbidden. The silence of Elsa's door. The haste with which her parents arrived, their tones hushing, smothering. Eyes full of the pain of disappointment, of embarrassment for their daughter. Anna the Tantrum-Thrower. Anna the Oblivious. Anna the Spare.

"They love me just as much as Elsa." She forced it on herself, refused to believe anything else. "They love me."Her mother had come to see her after the… the fight. Just her. Only her, not Elsa. She'd made time for _Anna_. She took solace in that notion, at least enough to make the tears stop. But that didn't get rid of the Elsa problem.

"She's just mean. Thinks she's too good for me." Anna pushed her head deeper into the pillow's embrace. "Fine. Last time I try to get her attention."

Her nose ached, squashed as it was against the pillow. She could only hope that the suffocation might make her pass out. Maybe then she'd get some sleep. She tried to focus on the silence of her room, the solid blackness smothering her eyes. Their blankness distracted her, kept the less pleasant activities of her head at bay.

_'I HATE YOU!'_

Yup. That hadn't lasted long. She rolled onto her back at the edge of the bed, a veritable cocoon of blankets encasing her. She'd never said that to Elsa before. Maybe she wasn't sleeping soundly, maybe she was upset too. Her father had gone to talk to her, after all.

That was why she'd never said it before. She'd never known _why_. What if there was a good reason? What if it had nothing to do with her? That little inkling of doubt had kept those three words back, until today.

Yet she'd meant it, when she said it. That was the worst part. That raw frustration of not being able to even see Elsa's _face_, of being powerless to open that unbreachable door, had overwhelmed her. It made her blood simmer even now. All she wanted was an answer. It didn't even have to be a nice answer. Really. She just wanted some sign, some indication that Elsa respected her enough to tell her the truth. To stop ignoring her.

This was Elsa's fault. _She_ was the one doing the shutting out. _She_ was the one that outright rejected a birthday present from her own sister. Her own sister, that now hated her.

The young princess moaned, working her hands free of the blankets to plaster them across her face. "I am such an idiot," she grumbled, words warped by the cage of her fingers, unsure of what was dumber: what she had said, or that she felt guilty for saying it. She rolled onto her side, arms crossed protectively across her chest as anger and exhaustion steadily gave way to guilt. No wonder Elsa didn't talk to her, what with the tantrums and yelling and throwing of chocolate. If she'd had a chance before, she'd certainly spoiled it today. What right did she have to yell at Elsa, when she was nasty enough for the both of them?

She drew her knees up over her arms, as if the shame could be squeezed out of her. She shouldn't have yelled like that. Playing the conversation over in her mind, she realized how one-sided it had been. True, one-sidedness was what had caused her anger in the first place, but that didn't keep her from feeling like a royal jerk. Literally.

If Elsa had planned on talking to her, she certainly wouldn't now. Not until Anna made it right.

"I'm sorry, Elsa," she murmured. She knew that nobody could possibly hear those words, even in the dead silence of night, but the tiniest hint of a hope wormed its way in there somehow. Maybe Elsa would just _know_, like she always seemed to know what she was thinking when they were little.

"_When we were little_." The words ghosted across Anna's lips of their own accord, bringing new tears to the corners of her eyes. She sniffed, overwhelmed by longing and unable to imagine how she could have been so angry before.

"I'll go apologize tomorrow," she told herself. "It's not like I'm gonna sleep tonight anyway."

* * *

Adam almost couldn't do it. Elsa had moved her hands under her head at some point during the night, curling her chin toward her breastbone. Despite her curled posture, however, her face remained completely relaxed. Her torso swelled and relaxed as steadily as it had when he left her. She was so peaceful, a vision compared to the anxious mess with which he had started.

He glanced at the crack in the wall. The orange glow of dawn meandered almost imperceptibly along its length, halfway down already. Josef and Lars had marched back into the castle at the very brink of their shift's end, almost to the minute. Picturing them having to stand silently by the doors all night was an appeasing thought to what he had to do now.

"Elsa…" he murmured, gently laying a hand on her shoulder. "Wake up."

Her lids pinched slightly at the corners. She curled inward even more.

"Mmmn…" she groaned, fighting his attempts to pull her back. "_Rrna._.. _go back to sleep_…"

He smirked. "You're welcome to, if you don't feel like getting back inside anymore."

Her eyes opened just a crack, lazily taking in the straw mat beneath them. It didn't take long after that. She blinked once, eyes quickly widening to the bright, blue crystals he had come to know.

"Adam?" she asked, as if she'd expected someone else. She sat up quickly, eyes darting from him to the glowing gap in the wall in between blinks. Her braid remained bound to the back of her head, though her hair was awkwardly squashed on the side where she'd slept.

"Hang on." He smirked, fluffing the matted platinum strands and sweeping her bangs back over the bruise on her forehead. Her eyes rested blankly on his torso, occasionally moving to some other part of him. He only dared glance at her directly. For some reason, the idea of direct eye contact seemed unbearable in a way it hadn't last night. "It's good to know that princesses can get bed-head, too." She smiled in the faintest way, only making eye contact once he leaned away. The only sign that she'd been sleeping was the fading of her makeup. "There, like you were never here. More or less."

"It's time?" she asked, gazing up at him intently. He nodded, trying not to look too somber. She swallowed, though whether it was in anxiety or sadness he could not tell.

"The coast is clear, the guards have already turned in." He was tempted to leave it at that, but an infuriatingly active conscience pushed him onward. "You'll want to leave soon, before the servants are up."

Elsa stretched, a slow, meticulous rolling of her shoulders. She closed her eyes; she might have been sleeping again, were it not for the tiny jutting of her jawbone as she clenched her teeth. Adam did not prompt her further, mostly because he could not bring himself to. She took another breath - just a slight huff, really, but it was deep for her. She gazed forlornly at the creeping line of sunlight as it inexorably invaded their perch.

_Maybe she feels the same way_, he thought, unable to decide if his interpretation of her expression was too self-serving to be reasonable. Whatever the case, it only made this moment sadder.

"Alright, I'm ready," she murmured, turning her eyes to meet his.

He smiled as best he could, sweeping his arm in the direction of the ladder. "After you, then."

The horses were quiet for their return to the ground. Even Hans restrained his attitude for the moment. Elsa fixed on the stables' double doors as she awaited him on the ground. They, too were ringed by the light of dawn, like dark slabs of stone roasting in a forge. She folded her hands together and, with a cursory glance at him, made her way toward them. He didn't speak as he fell into stride with her, sliding the bolt back when the time came. When he did choose to break the silence, however, he found that he wasn't alone.

"Adam-"

"Elsa-"

She blushed. He chuckled. When she did not continue, he accepted her silent invitation.

"So… will I get any more late-night break-ins?" he asked, trying to ignore his premonitions of her answer. She averted her gaze, crossing her arms beneath her chest.

"After all," he continued, already knowing where this was going, "you still haven't told me why you were here to begin with."

"I…" She sighed, eying the sliver of sunlight cracking through the doorway. "I don't know. I… I'm sorry, I just don't know."

The look on her face might just have equaled the pain in his heart. He wanted to ask her why she had come to him _tonight_, why she never had before, why it seemed that she never would again, _why_. Instead, a simple "Ah," was all he managed. He didn't know if she meant to say more, but out of kindness for them both he nudged the door open instead. The sun painted the cobblestones of the courtyard golden-orange.

"The coast is clear," he said, stepping back and sweeping his arm toward the open doorway. "Good luck."

She hung there for a moment, gaze flickering once between him and the floor. He almost allowed himself to believe that she intended to stay. Almost.

With one last, bracing breath she made her way into the light. She squinted at first, pale skin aglow in the sun. He averted his eyes, unwilling to subject himself to this any longer.

"Adam?"

It figured that she would do that. It wasn't hard to look upon her one last time. It did hurt, though. She'd turned fully to him, framed in the brilliance of day. Even with makeup faded, skirt muddied, and hair untidy, he couldn't believe she was real.

"Thank you. For everything."

He nodded, plastering to his face the biggest smile he could. "Of course."

She swallowed, glancing warily at the barracks at the other end of the courtyard. "Go," he said, nodding once more. She smiled at him, a quick up-and-down twitch of the lips, before finally turning and briskly making her way to the shade of a covered walkway.

He closed the door, unwilling to watch her further. The stable was gray and gloomy, the lumpy silhouettes of the horses his new and only company. The lanterns had burnt out long ago; with more daylight on the way, he didn't see a point in reigniting them. He didn't see a point to doing anything right now.

The sigh he issued was loud, belligerent, and utterly insufficient to show the true level of his displeasure. Tonight had been the most amazing thing he could remember. In a luckless life, it seemed fortune had finally paid him its debt.

Now, with that wonderful payment sealed back in the castle - likely forever, without even an inkling why - he was beginning to think that luck was taking out a new loan. He groaned, slumping onto a hay bail and folding his face into his hands. There was a concerned whinny, causing him to peek through his fingers at the steed across from him.

Silver peered at him plaintively, tossing his head forlornly toward the doors. Adam sighed, pursing his lips in sympathy.

"Yeah, boy," he murmured, rising to stroke the animal's muzzle. "I know. I liked her too."


	6. 6: I Did It

**Chapter 6: I Did It**

Elsa made haste along the shadowed walkway, arms drawn tightly across her abdomen. The sun was rising ever-higher; she suspected a few of the servants were already awake. If she didn't get back to her room soon…

She made it to the door inside, finding it mercifully unlocked. She swung the wooden panel inward, but something nagged at her. Unable to completely cross the threshold, she turned back toward the stables, hoping to get a glimpse of Adam's encouraging smile one more time.

She didn't get it. The stable doors had already closed, trembling faintly as they settled against one another. There was a sharp feeling in her chest, not enough to register as true pain, but definitely real.

_You have to go_. Her mind spoke its unwanted piece, but she could refute it no longer. With a shaky breath, Princess Elsa retreated into the shadow of the hall, closing the door behind her.

Fortune followed her inside, for she found no company in the grayed indoors. The sun's rays had not yet penetrated this side of the building, leaving an aura of stark dimness that made the castle seem long-deserted.

As she rounded the corner to her room, however, Elsa found that this was not the case. Her door sat widely ajar, framed by wallpaper rippling with water damage. Her breath caught in her throat, searching her memories for the moment she had closed that door. None existed.

_No no no no…_ she worried, rushing to the doorway. She had to get back in now, before anyone could see the-

Horror paralyzed her as she cleared the doorway. She was too late.

Gerda, chief amongst the palace maids and former nanny to the princesses, looked as plump as ever. She also happened to be kneeling upon the rug in the center of her room, soaked in meltwater, a veritable fence of wash rags surrounding her. Elsa could only stare as the woman, muttering irritably to herself, pounded the carpet with each of them. It was only when Gerda reached for a bucket behind her that she was noticed at all - though Elsa would have been much more comfortable being unseen at the moment.

"Your Highness!" Gerda gasped, fortunately concealing Elsa's own. "I didn't see you there!"

"I-I'm sorry for frightening you," she managed to reply, sidling into the room proper. Her mind was racing, desperate to find something, _anything_, that could explain this.

"Oh, it's no bother to me, milady," Gerda answered, squeezing one of the rags out into the bucket. "I can't take much issue with it, seeing as you seem to rise earlier than half the servants! No wonder we never see you out and about!"

Elsa swallowed, trying to calm the racing of her heart and failing. _Conceal it, don't feel it. Don't let it-_

"I can only give my apologies for not having this mess cleaned!" Gerda continued, fortunately not looking directly at her. "Imagine my surprise, happening upon your chambers in such a state! Water everywhere, holes in the wall! I'll have to get the men in for those. Goodness, milady, whatever happened in here?"

"I…" Elsa searched desperately for the words. She _had_ to come up with something. But what? How _else_ did a torrent of water end up coating a room on the second floor? "I…"

"I did it."

Reality paused. The storm of Elsa's mind ceased, leaving only the bland recognition of one fact: she knew that voice. More than any other.

Gerda looked up, her brow knitted with confusion. Elsa turned, following her gaze to her rescuer. Anna was standing in the doorway, eyes decidedly focused on Gerda. She wore an auburn dress with a green bodice, with her hair already coupled into the twin braids she favored. She cupped one hand in another, stroking the palm of her right hand with her opposite thumb. The only unusual thing Elsa noticed were the dark circles under her sister's eyes.

_Anna_… Elsa thought, sympathy and shame welling in her heart. She hadn't been this close to her sister in _years_… and now it was happening like this.

"I beg your pardon, young lady?" Gerda asked, though Elsa could already see the nanny emerging from her.

"I was angry at you," Anna continued, sending a few fleeting glances Elsa's way. "So I took some water from the cellar and dumped it in here while you were gone. And I swung the bucket, too - that's why there are holes in the wall."

Elsa could only blink, too busy fighting to restrain her mouth from simply dropping open. Anna had to at least know her own innocence.

Anna sighed, casting her eyes to the floor. "But I… I was angry. I shouldn't have done that." She took a sidelong look at her older sister, irises shining with meaning. "I'm sorry."

Elsa opened her mouth, but no words came out. _Say something. She's doing this for _you_. After everything you've done. Say something!_

"Anna…"

"I can hardly believe it." Her tentative reply was easily steamrolled by Gerda's tone. Anna turned to the maid, eyebrows rising at how quickly the woman had crossed the distance between them. "Such behavior from a princess! It's like your lessons have taught you nothing! You are thirteen years old, young lady, and you will learn to act like it!"

She snatched Anna's wrist, unceremoniously tugging the princess along with her as she marched out of the room. "Hey!" Anna protested, weakly struggling to free herself from their ex-nanny's grip.

"We are going to speak with your father about this this instant!" Gerda continued, unflinching. "We'll see what he has to say about your behavior! Don't worry, milady, I'll send for someone to finish cleaning up here. You won't even be waiting a minute!"

Elsa pressed her lips together, managing only a swallow. Gerda marched off with Anna down the hallway, never releasing the redhead from her grip. Elsa watched them go, marooned by the doorway.

Anna looked back at her inquiringly. There were so many questions to which she deserved answers, Elsa didn't even try to figure out which one she sought. Why do you shut me out? Why is your room like that? Why aren't you helping me?

She desperately wished for something, anything, that could do just that. Short of blurting out the truth, however, she could come up with nothing but silence. The seconds passed painfully, the two women receding from Elsa more and more.

Finally, the ship passed. Anna's eyes sank toward the floor, dull and disappointed, as she and Gerda rounded the corner and vanished around the bend.

Slowly, hollowly, Elsa pressed her door shut and fell back against it. That was it. It was over. She looked upon her soaked flooring, only now realizing how vast and empty the room seemed. Even the bed, titanic compared to what she had spent the night on, seemed pathetically unable to fill the void of space around her. Funny, that it had all seemed so impossibly suffocating before.

She raised her gloves, staring at their palms, ruddied by dirt and traces of her hair. They had helped her keep her powers at bay for so long. They had been symbols of safety for almost as long as she could remember. After everything that had happened, however, she realized something else: they crippled her. Struck her dumb, filled her with fear of a world without them.

She should take them off. Free herself of these shackles, be who she was. She could do it.

_No, you can't_. She clenched her fists, sliding down the door until she had come to rest at its base. What she hadn't done in eight years, she couldn't hope to do now. She would never be able to visit Adam in the stables. She would never be able to tell Gerda the truth, and save Anna from whatever punishment she would receive. Never, never, never.

The servants would be in soon to clean her room. Elsa gently drew a finger beneath each of her eyes, wiping away the tears that had formed there. The bruise on her forehead had gone unnoticed in the brevity of this encounter, but she could not count on her bangs to hide it forever. Adam could only help her so far.

She rose, sniffing and gathering up all her strength as she made her way to the vanity across from her bed. She had a performance to put on, and the audience would be here soon.


	7. 7: A Tale of Two Sisters

**Chapter 7: A Tale of Two Sisters**

Anna squirmed against Gerda's iron grip. It wasn't like she was trying to avoid this. She'd basically volunteered, after all. Granted, that had been before she found out that Elsa was just fine with letting her take the fall for… whatever it was that had happened.

It had all happened so fast. The young princess had barely been within earshot of Gerda's question to her sister. Elsa had looked so shocked, so speechless, so… in trouble. So Anna had tried to make a diversion, to give her sister some time to think up a supporting act.

Not one of her better spur-of-the-moment plans, in hindsight.

"Your Majesty?"

Gerda gently rapped on the entrance to her father's study. The door itself was already swung wide, like it always was. That, mercifully, he did not have in common with her older sister. Trailing behind Gerda as she was, Anna was left out of sight. For the moment, all she could hear was his voice.

"Yes, Gerda? What is it?"

Anna heard the shuffling of papers. She swallowed, bracing herself for the stern and inevitable expression to which she would soon be treated. The "disappointment glare," as she had come to call it, was the most searing thing she had ever experienced. She never feared a scolding - he never needed to scold. Sometimes she wished that he did, if not to avoid the unflinchingly forlorn look she received whenever she did something wrong. He had a way of torturing with the eyes that no spanking from a nanny could ever match.

"Apologies for the interruption, milord. It's about your daughter." Gerda hauled Anna to her side.

"Ow!" she protested, casting a fleeting glance to her father. King Sigurd sat erect at his desk, a few neat piles of parchment arranged before him like a little town. His head had tilted at the sight of her, eyes narrowing just the tiniest bit in confusion. The redhead averted her gaze after that.

"Princess Anna, it seems, has felt the need to vandalize her sister's room with a bucket of water," the head maid continued. "She snuck into Princess Elsa's quarters while she was out, apparently feeling that it was an appropriate reaction to an argument had yesterday. She confessed it to the both of us not two minutes ago. Honestly I can't know about it one way or the other, but I've sent for some men to repair the water damage. I thought you might prefer to decide what her punishment may be, given that she is _old_ enough to know better."

Anna huffed off the glare she knew Gerda was affixing to her skull.

"Anna?" She reluctantly met her father's gaze. She was surprised to see that, while he was now staring at her quite intently, it was with none of the disappointment she had expected. "Is this true?"

She affixed her eyes to the massive bookshelf on the wall to her right. She didn't want to keep this up, not after Elsa had simply let her fall into this. But… if she did, Elsa would be in even more trouble than she was now.

_I'm so stupid._

"Yes," she murmured, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "I… I was mad about yesterday." She tried to match Gerda's glare when she added the next part. "And I _said_ I was _sorry_."

The maid's eyebrows quickly forced the young princess to stand down. Her father was silent for a time, allowing Anna to observe everything about the room but him. The bookcase was filled with blocky old tomes, some of which had accrued cobwebs in their age. The library's books were bad enough - the thought of reading through all of _those _seemed amazing and revolting to her at the same time. The study was adorned by a great triangular window, offering a pristine view of the fjord as the sun slowly ascended into the sky. The reddish light of early morning slanted onto the left wall, illuminating a painting of her grandfather.

King Gregers was a massive man, all sideburns and shoulderpads and stoicism. His portrait glared at her like stone, as if even he found her guilty. Anna kicked at the floor, unable to provide an argument to a man that lived only in the confines of a frame.

"Thank you for bringing this to my attention, Gerda. You may go now." The maid nodded and quickly paced away.

_I wish I could make her disappear that easily._

"Anna, please come inside. Close the door." Her father's tone was so measured that she couldn't decide if she felt dread or confusion, but she did as she was told. Despite her best efforts, the bolt clicked like thunder through the silence. She turned to face him, sweeping her fingertips past her ear in an unnecessary effort to keep her hair in order.

"I said I was sorry. To Elsa, I mean," she offered. The words seemed to fizzle out once they had left her tongue, so she said no more.

To her surprise, however, he smiled, eyes softening knowingly. "I'm sure you meant it. But you and I both know that you didn't flood Elsa's room."

That was the last thing she expected to hear. "We… we do?"

His smile broadened. "Yes, we do."

"How do you know that?"

"I'm the king, Anna, but more importantly, I'm your father. I know everything."

She knew that wasn't true, but _darn_ was it a lot truer than she would have thought. He rose from his seat, turning to look at the portrait of King Gregers.

"Your grandfather was a brave man. He taught me to control my emotions, to do the right thing - even when it was at my own expense. That is the essence of being a good ruler, regardless of nation."

Anna shuffled, wondering if this speech had been prepared for Elsa instead of her. She'd always had a feeling that her father practiced every word he said beforehand; he was always so well-spoken, she didn't know how he could manage it otherwise. This only proved it.

"He passed before either of you were born, as you know. But he would be proud of what you did today, Anna."

She still wondered how he could possibly know that she had lied, but she had a feeling that he wouldn't be forthcoming on that front. For now, Anna was content to let a small smile write itself onto her face. She'd never known her grandfather, but somehow her father's words had made this whole thing seem worthwhile.

"And I'm sure Elsa is very thankful for your help as well."

Ah, yes. _Elsa_. Anna frowned, shelving King Gregers's approval for something bitterer.

"Yeah… maybe," she muttered, not sure whether she wanted him to hear her or not. Regardless of what she wanted, his head quickly swiveled in her direction.

"You disagree?" he asked.

"Mm…" She tried to keep it to herself, to think of some other way to explain what she'd said, but she couldn't, she just _couldn't_, and she didn't want to tamp it down anymore. "It's just… if she was so grateful, why did she let Gerda haul me off like that?! It's not like she knew that you would know I was covering for her! Not to mention that I don't actually know why her room _was_ flooded in the first place, and I don't know how _you _know that I didn't know that, because I'm apparently the _only _one that doesn't know things, and she just… she just _let_ me do it, Papa! I thought she'd _know_ that I wanted her to…" She sighed, wrapping one hand about the other. "I don't know."

He gave her an awful look, a pitying one. She didn't want to be pitied, she wanted someone to _understand_. "Your sister loves you very much, Anna."

"Yeah, well why does she shut me out, then?! Why does she let me get in trouble for things I didn't do, just because I was trying to help her?" The words spilled from her mouth almost faster than she could think them. "Even _after _she ignores me, and tells me to leave her alone! Sometimes I just wanna… _rrrgh_ with her! And I..." She tensed her fingers into claws, strangling the empty air. Self-awareness only caught up with her a few seconds later, forcing her to sigh and drop her hands back into their nervous embrace. When she spoke again, it was with strained measuredness. "I just feel like a sister shouldn't… shouldn't let me _fall_ like that."

The words stabbed at her heart as she said them. A shroud of awfulness fell upon her in that moment, like a cloak made of rain clouds. It was all she could do not to cry, so sudden had the starkness of her statement dawned upon her. It hearkened back to a memory - no, a shadow of a memory - that she couldn't directly recall, but could still experience a thousand times over. She had fallen, and Elsa hadn't been there when she got back up.

Her father did not speak immediately, and she didn't feel the pressure of the silence anymore. She just wanted to go back to her room, to curl up in her bed, and sleep through the rest of this terrible, terrible day.

But he did speak eventually, coaxing her out of her emotional thunderstorm.

"Anna, do you remember the day you went down to play in front of the sea wall?"

She cocked her head, brow furrowing in confusion. "What? No..."

He smiled, eyes sweeping the floor. She had a feeling he was seeing something very different than polished wood. "That doesn't surprise me. You were very young; four, I think. Gerda had expressly forbidden either of you girls to go play on the rocks past the western wall. Of course, that didn't stop you. Elsa told you not to go, but she couldn't stop you, either. So you went - and Elsa told me."

Anna's eyes widened at the stream of recollections that followed: the shouts of guards, the rumbling of water, the week of bed rest. "Oh… _that _day."

"Yes, that day." He turned to her, all love and seriousness at the same time. "You fell into the water just when the guards arrived. If Elsa hadn't told me, you might have drowned." He walked around the desk and put his hands on her shoulders. She didn't remember his eyes being this shiny. "You were sick for over a week, but Elsa spent that whole time wondering if you'd ever stop being mad at her. Gerda had to promise her chocolate after every meal just so she would eat."

Anna averted her eyes. She wasn't sure if this was supposed to make her feel better, but if it was, it was failing. All she could think about now was that such a story had never happened since. The worst of it was, she _had_ been angry with Elsa's tattling. Hearing the story retold like this, however, just made her feel like a horrible human being.

Anna let her forehead fall against her father's chest. He wrapped his arms around her with a sigh, pulling her close. She felt his powerful body around hers, protective and comforting. She hadn't realized how much her eyes stung, both from sleeplessness and moisture, until now.

"You being mad at her tore Elsa apart, but she has always put your safety before what you thought of her," he said, allowing his embrace to cushion that disappointing conclusion. "That is _true_ love, Anna."

She huffed against his chest, eying the gleaming medal on his chest while allowing her thoughts to wander elsewhere.

"Then what is it _now_? What could she possibly be protecting me from?"

He sighed, pushing her back by the shoulders so that he could behold her face. There was a loving seriousness about him as he spoke.

"I cannot say. But perhaps Elsa will be ready to tell you one day herself."


	8. 8: The One and Only

**Chapter 8: The One and Only**

Stroke one. Stop. Stroke two. Stop.

Adam watched the brush slide against Olaf's mottled hair with lazy indifference. He favored a more mechanical approach these days. He counted the arcs his hand traced over the animals' flanks, watched the water swirl in their drinking buckets, and shoved the pitchfork into piles of hay with mindless precision. There was once a time he would have spoken to the horses, quipping at Hans or marveling at Silver's gullibility. Their lack of responses had never bothered him before.

Now, however, it only reminded him of what they were replacing. The days had passed, and Elsa had never been back. He had known that it would happen, somehow, and still had not expected it. He had tried to move past it, to avoid the longing he shouldn't have felt. So far he'd met with little success, if the turmoil associated with the horses meant anything.

"You're not talking, Adam."

He looked up over Olaf's back. Benedikte, the Stable Master of Arendelle, had turned away from Hans's muzzle to examine the young man. Wispy brown hair tied behind his head, cheeks creased by age, Adam's mentor was eying him with airy curiosity.

"I'm fine, if that's what you're asking," Adam replied, returning to his brushing with a bit more alacrity.

"Oh no, not at all." Benedikte waved his hand as if to banish a fly. He turned back to his own work, casually lifting Hans's upper lip to examine his teeth. "It is just that you are never not talking. Perhaps I should learn to cherish the gifts life gives me."

Adam laughed at that. At least he wasn't _entirely_ alone.

"You just start to notice how they don't talk back after a while," he said. "Starts to feel… pointless."

To his surprise, Benedikte chuckled. "If I thought you spoke to Hans for his teachings on philosophy, I would have stopped you long ago. Horses do not speak, it is true. Our words and phrases are strange to them." He cast Adam a sidelong glance as he stroked the stallion's muzzle. "But they will respond, in their own way. All creatures do."

Adam paused, though not immediately sure why. He was quite used to Benedikte's musings. They were often more valuable than he had once believed, but a powerful thought came from this one that had quite little to do with horses.

Elsa was not ambivalent to him. He _knew_ that, even if it was not powerful enough to be meaningful on its own. She, like the horses, was trapped by a barrier that had nothing to do with dislike.

Adam sighed, allowing himself to come back to Earth. Trapped by some strange political force or simply resigned to the castle of her own free will, it didn't matter. She wasn't coming out here, and he wasn't going in there.

"Hello!"

One of the stable doors swung wide, coating the room with the orange hue of dusk. Adam couldn't stop a smile from replacing his own self-pity; everyone around the castle knew that voice, though it certainly wasn't Elsa's. He turned from Olaf to greet their new visitor.

Anna rode the door inside, tiny shoes perched lithely upon its baseboard. Her red hair gleamed in the matching evening light. She hopped off the plank, allowing it to smack against the wall as she raced to meet Silver's extended muzzle.

"Good evening, Your Highness," Benedikte offered, his smile wider than Adam's. "It's a bit late for a ride, even for you."

"How's my big boy!" she exclaimed, scratching Silver's chin. She turned her eyes to the Stable Master in short order. "How many times do I have to say it, Benedikte? I'm just Anna, Princess Anna if you _have_ to. Besides, who says I'm here to ride?"

"I appreciate your humility, Your Highness. I appreciate your station even more." Benedikte chuckled, shaking his head. "As for whether or not you wish to ride with Silver today, your eyes have always been my informants."

She blinked, raising an inquiring eyebrow. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means your eyes speak even more than your mouth," Adam added, turning back to cleaning Olaf's coat. "Somehow. And _I_ for one am happy to call you Anna."

She looked at him, braids whipping in the motion. "Well _thank you_, Adam. I think."

"No problem."

She smiled satisfactorily, nodding her head before turning to Benedikte again. She glanced in Silver's direction. "Soo…?"

The Stable Master arched an eyebrow, crossing his arms. "You know that I am due to head back into town soon, Your Highness."

"_Anna_! My name is _Anna_," she insisted, pursing her lips furiously. "And I can saddle him myself! It'll just be around the courtyard - it's not like I'm allowed to go anywhere else!"

"I'll help her stable him up when she's done," Adam offered, turning to the groom's kit as he wheedled horse hair from the brush. "I won't let her kill herself, I promise."

"Hey!"

Benedikte laughed, waving his hand at that imaginary fly again.

"Very well. But don't stay out after dark; I don't want a rock getting into poor Silver's shoe."

"Pfft." Anna just stroked Silver's muzzle, looking at him conspiratorially. "You know I wouldn't let that happen, don't you?"

Silver snorted his agreement, but the animal was agreeable to anything when he had attention. Benedikte turned toward the back end of the stables, passing into the shadows in search of his belongings. The Stable Master had a fine cottage in the countryside, rising up along the foothills of the fjord. Adam sometimes tried to spot it from the stable roof, one of the tiny lights glowing in the night. He'd only been there once, what felt like a very long time ago. His life had been very… different then.

Today, however, he did not want to be at Benedikte's cottage. He wanted to be in the castle, that unreachable place. The closest he ever got were the kitchens for his meals, and even then the chefs watched all the servants for theft. He was barely allowed past the pantry, let alone anywhere near the princess's bedroom.

"Hmph!"

Adam's wandering thoughts were interrupted by Anna's huff as she launched a saddle onto Silver's back. Somehow she had already led him out of his stall. Adam chuckled, noting that she had forgotten to tie the excitable equine to something before beginning her work. Snapping the groom's kit shut, he quickly corrected the thirteen-year-old's error. Anna was both focused and frenzied, never keeping track of two things at once.

_It's a good thing she's not the Queen yet_, he thought good-naturedly. _She'd probably let all of Arendelle's trade agreements slip._

And that was when it hit him.

"So, what's got the one-and-only Princess of Arendelle so desperate to go riding _tonight_?" he asked, helping her to adjust the saddle before looping the straps beneath Silver's flanks.

Anna gave him a half-glance. "I just felt like it. Geez, what is it with you and Benedikte today?" After a brief pause, however, she couldn't seem to help but add, "and I'm _not_ the only one."

"Well, maybe not. But you're certainly the only one we ever see." The statement was cathartic in its own right, if not just to provide verbal release for his own frustration over the past days. But it wasn't for that alone. "You should convince your sister to come down here sometime. Though, if she's as spirited as you, it may be best to have both Benedikte and I here at the same time. We'd want a stable to still be here once you're done with it."

"Pfft." Anna went up on tiptoe to fit the reins around Silver's muzzle. "I can't get Elsa to go _anywhere_."

There was a bitterness to her voice that aroused his interest. It appeared that Elsa had a habit of avoiding more than just himself.

"Okay then, who _does_ see her?" he asked, doing his best to keep his tone conversational. The thought of him trying to use subtlety to gain information made him want to laugh. "I mean, I'm pretty sure she wouldn't empty her own chamber pot."

"_Ew_." Anna wrinkled her nose. "I don't know, servants, I guess? What is it with you and the questions today?"

Adam held his hands up innocently, backing away and turning back toward the groom's kit. She seemed unusually grumpy today, but he was so close. "Fine, didn't mean to offend you, _Your Highness_." Anna growled, rolling her eyes. "I just figured that a _princess_ might be able to tell a humble, lowly-"

"Adam…"

"-poor, uncivilized-"

"Adam."

"-ignorant _servant_ like myself-"

"_Adam!_"

He finally allowed himself to stop. Anna huffed at him. "She doesn't let many people into her room, okay? My mother and father sometimes, and our tutor." Her eyes narrowed at Julian's mention. "The maids clean her room sometimes, I guess, but only when she's not there. When she's in the library, I mean. 'Cause she's never anywhere else other than those two." The bitterness was back, but only briefly could he register it before she got going again. "The servants bring her food to her room, but they don't really _see_ her. They just leave it at her door."

His eyes narrowed before he could stop them. _Food, was it?_

"Is _that_ what you were looking for?"

"Everything and more," he replied, bowing facetiously as he stored the knowledge for later use. "You wouldn't happen to know why she's so…" he pursed his lips, feigning a search for the right word when he'd really dawned upon it days ago. "_Reclusive_, would you?"

Anna's answer was both quicker and quieter than he had expected.

"No." She grunted, launching herself up and onto Silver's saddle. The horse shook his head as she rocked back and forth, awkwardly trying to adjust her dress whilst sitting on it. "Now come on, let's go. Bring some hay bales; I wanna try jumping."

Adam arched his eyebrow. He couldn't explain Anna's testy mood, and he was eager to put his plan into motion. But for now, the youngest princess of Arendelle had given him what he wanted. It was time to repay the favor.

The stable boy darted to the doors and opened the second one wide. A smile crept back onto Anna's face as the fading daylight illuminated her, such that he couldn't help but share it. It only grew wider, of course, when Anna kicked Silver forward. The horse took his first step, only to jolt as the rope Adam had forgotten to untie reeled him back in. He laughed as she nearly pitched forward into her mount's mane, laughed at the plan that she had inspired in him, laughed at a hope for the future that he hadn't felt in years.

So busy was he laughing, in fact, that he didn't notice Benedikte, adjusting his coat in the back of the stables, watching his apprentice with curiosity.


End file.
